


Infernal Fascination

by evilwriter37



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: (in chapter 49), (just once because Viggo is a kinky bastard), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bondage, Captured, Dagur gives Freud's ghost more power, Emotional Recovery, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, F/M, Fisting, Forced Drug Use, Forced Eye Contact, Frottage, Graphic Depictions of Feelings, Hiccup's my psychological plaything, M/M, Mentions of incest, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Oral Sex, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), PTSD, Physical Abuse, Polyamory, Rape, Self Harm, Slavery, Sounding, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Torture, War, Whump, a rescue in my story?, dagcup, don't try nutmeg, hiccup!whump, how to break your Hiccup, it's more likely than you think, nutmeg makes an excellent psychedelic, physical recovery, polyamory is real, thoughts of self harm, vigcup, wow what a healthy relationship you've got there dagur
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-28 10:17:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 102
Words: 395,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7636351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilwriter37/pseuds/evilwriter37
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place after the events of "Maces and Talons." Hiccup is captured by Dagur the Deranged, who wants nothing more than to call the Dragon Rider his own. This reignites the war between Berk and the Berserkers, while the war with Viggo Grimborn and his Dragon Hunters is only just starting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> My hand slipped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First cover is an edit done by me. Second cover is done by a lovely artist that sadly deactivated their tumblr.

Hiccup crept as quietly as he could through the bushes, knees bent in a crouch. He wished the sound of his heart pounding wasn’t so loud in his head: it would be beneficial for him if he could hear someone before they approached.

It had seemed safest for him to snatch a dagger. His stealth and speed wouldn’t be ruined by such a small weapon, whereas an axe or a sword would have given him away in an instant.

Footsteps! He whipped his head in the direction of the sound, emerald green eyes coming in contact with two large men about a dozen feet away, both armored and carrying devilish-looking war hammers. He slipped his thin frame behind a nearby tree, deciding that it would be best to avoid them. He didn’t want to take the chance of losing a fight, especially since it would draw attention and cause a commotion. Then this whole idea of escape would be useless.

He admitted that it was a ridiculous, desperate idea, as he had tried escaping two times now, but he hoped that this time the gods were with him.

Hiccup carefully peered around the tree, watching with shallow breaths as the two soldiers disappeared into the darkness. He had picked a night where the moon was only a tiny, waning crescent. Light would have been just as helpful to him as harmful. He didn’t want to be seen.

When the coast was clear, he moved on, wondering when he would come upon some familiar ground. He was moved every time he escaped, and was only allowed to be transported through the camp once a nasty smelling sack had been put over his head and his hands were securely bound behind his back. This caused him to have no idea where he was going, and no way of knowing how to leave the camp.

He was glad that he was in the right physical state for an escape. Most prisoners of the Berserkers and the Dragon Hunters weren’t treated as kindly. He received two meals a day, sometimes three if they were feeling generous, plenty of water, a blanket for sleeping (thin as it was,) and manhandling and beating had been ordered to be kept at a minimum. Really, they were only aiding in his escape, maintaining the strength he would need for such a task.

Hiccup put the dagger through his belt and dropped to his hands and knees as he saw orange light flickering up ahead. Perhaps it would be better for him to continue at a crawl. Hopefully no one would see him if he was near to the ground.

_Or maybe I’m going the wrong way and should go in a different direction._ He stopped to think in a thick patch of undergrowth that was just off the main path. _If there’s light, that means more people, and that’s the last thing I want._

Making up his mind, he turned and crawled in another direction. He didn’t make it very far before the undergrowth turned into impassible webs of bramble.

_Great. Now what do I do?_

He stood and studied the mass of thorns in front of him. It was too dark to see if there was a way around and looking would make too much noise.

_Maybe if I go through the brambles. They wouldn’t expect that._

Hiccup was about to find a way through it, hands first, when he realized that it would just make the path he had taken clearer to pursuers. It would leave an obvious hole in the canvas of the forest and make him bleed, which would make him easy to follow.

Sighing, Hiccup turned and surveyed the shadows around him. He hadn’t realized it would take him this long to get out of the camp. It made his stomach clench. He hadn’t made much progress for being out for so long; they would notice him missing soon, or they already had.

_Time to say goodbye to the lovely “Prisoner’s Inn,” I guess._ Certainly his treatment would be worse if they caught him this time. Hopefully he wasn't back yet…

_No, no. Can't think about that._

But Hiccup wasn’t giving up just yet. He was stubborn and would fight until his last breath. Scratch that: he would probably keep kicking his one good foot and his metal one for a few seconds after that.

Hiccup decided that his only choice was to go back the way he had come. This obviously wasn’t the right direction and he would have to try another one.

He didn’t run into any trouble on his way back to his starting point. Although, he wasn’t surprised when he found a group of soldiers with weapons and torches milling around outside the makeshift hut that he had been locked in. They were scrutinizing the ground, looking for his tracks.

_Hopefully they stepped over all of them by now and covered them._

Hiccup took shallow breaths as he drew his dagger and knelt behind a tree, keeping the weapon low and out of the light’s range. A reflection off of the metal would give him away.

He tried blocking out the sound of his heartbeat to listen to the soldiers. Maybe they would say something that could be valuable to him.

For a moment, all his ears picked up were mumbles and grumbling, but the longer he listened, the more words he was able to distinguish.

“How do you think he escaped?”

“What makes you think I know? The little runt probably slipped through the bars or something.”

Hiccup frowned and looked down at himself. Sure, he was small by Viking standards, but he wasn’t small enough to do _that_. Besides, there had been spikes on the barred door keeping him in. He would have been shredded if he had tried that.

“Should we tell him?”

“And make him angry? Are you kidding?! I’d like to keep my head for a few more years! Is that alright with you?”

_So he’s back from his little excursion._

Hiccup’s stomach was doing flips and sweat glistened at his temples. He clenched his fists, trying not to let this information drive him into a panic. He didn’t need to listen anymore. The only good thing he had learned was that they hadn’t alerted anybody yet.

_But where do I go?_

He dared to take a look around the tree. The group had spread out more in search of clues to where he had gone, but there was no way he could get past them without them noticing. He was trapped. He couldn’t go back the other way, as it seemed to lead to the main part of the camp, but he couldn’t go forward either.

He pulled his head back and pressed it against the tree, clutching the dagger tightly in his left hand. He closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing and his heart rate. He had to think. There had to be a way out of this and he just hadn’t found it yet.

Frustrated tears stung at his eyes as he tried to form a map of the camp in his mind and failed at each attempt. His captors had successfully confused him and made him almost completely unaware of his surroundings.

_I wish I had Toothless._

That thought brought a longing ache to his chest, but at least he knew that Toothless was safe. No one else had been captured with him. That was the only comforting knowledge he had.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t tell him? What we could find of his tracks show that he’s been gone for about half an hour already.”

Hiccup flinched and nearly gasped. That voice came right from the other side of his tree. He managed to cup a hand to his mouth before any surprised exclamation could come out.

“The chief will only know about this little stroll of his when we present Hiccup to him to be punished. Let ’im take his anger out on the boy. Le’s see how long he lasts.”

Though he was sweating and adrenaline was heating his body, a shiver slithered up Hiccup’s spine. He slowly removed his hand from his mouth, his breathing heavier than he wanted it to be. He’d failed. He had wanted to be gone before his return, but now he was certainly going to be caught and… He couldn't think about it. _No._ He _had_ to get away.

“Alright,” the voice on the other side of the tree said. “Just as long as we find him soon.”

Frantic thoughts were racing through his head. Should he crawl away and risk the chance of being spotted? Maybe he should just abandon all caution and run for it. Certainly he was faster than these bulky men.

A better idea popped into his head, a way to run and make sure that he had the jump on them. Well, he hoped it was a better idea.

Adjusting his grip on the dagger, Hiccup twisted himself out from behind the tree and stabbed blindly at the man that stood so close to him. He felt it connect with flesh and there was a pained and angered bellow, and then the big man dropped to one knee. He had gotten his leg, just as he had intended.

The man raised his axe, (obviously forgetting that they’d been ordered not to kill or injure him,) but Hiccup was fast. He darted to his feet, dodged, and quickly scanned the area. The rest of the soldiers had turned on him and they were drawing nearer, weapons ready, beginning to surround him. Knowing that the dagger really wouldn’t help him now, he threw it, aiming for an eye, but the small weapon was thrown aside into the dirt by a bigger blade. Eyes wide, he whipped around and ran.

Or he would have, but the injured man on the ground released his axe, lunged forward, and grabbed his right foot. He crashed to the ground, scraping his palms as he braced himself, pain jolting through his leg for a quick second. He desperately tried to wriggle his foot out of his boot to get himself free, but there was a commotion and there were rough hands on his shoulders, clutching him tight and hauling him up.

Hiccup thrashed and struggled, shouting desperately and wordlessly. His hands were yanked behind his back and quickly tied up. He shook himself in every way he could, trying to make it hard for them to hold him. He had to get out of here!

“I’m so fed up with you, Haddock!” one man yelled. He grabbed the bottom of Hiccup’s tunic in one of his meaty hands and tore at it. He had only a moment to wonder what it was for before the strip was placed over his eyes and tied in the back of his head, properly blinding him.

“ _Now_ we can let ’im know,” one man said approvingly.

Hiccup lost his breath as he was suddenly taken off the ground and hefted over an armored shoulder like a sack. He kicked and squirmed like mad, panic setting in, but his toes only came in contact with the breastplate of whoever was holding him, and an arm wrapped tight around his body, keeping him in place.

“Time for an audience with the chief, little Hiccup,” the man holding him announced. “Let’s see if you survive it.”

_If only that was what I was worried about_


	2. Chapter 1

_Ten days earlier…_

Hiccup shrugged Astrid’s hand off his shoulder and strode past her, heading for his hut. The sun was just peeking over the water, bleeding tendrils of red into the gray sky. It was a hostile looking sky, one that told of a coming storm.

“I’m alright, Astrid. Just go to sleep.” He turned to face her with his shoulders slumped. There were shadows under her eyes, yet she managed to look awake. Her blue eyes were wide with concern.

“But you're _not_ alright,” she protested, folding her arms over her chest, a common gesture of hers. “You don't have to be strong _all_ the time, Hiccup. Not even I can do that.”

“I just...” He shook his head, looked down at the wooden planks beneath his feet, put a hand up to cover his despairing expression. “We lost, Astrid. Viggo has the Dragon Eye, and we didn't find Heather, and-”

“And it’s just one battle in a bigger war,” she claimed. He felt her hand on his shoulder again, letting it stay this time. He still didn't look at her. “We’ll go after him. Promise.”

Hiccup shook his head dismally, somehow found the courage to look up and meet her gaze. “But I can’t _win!_ Even when I planned and planned and thought I was one step ahead of him, he was still moving all the pieces!” His voice rose to a shout that permeated through the still, silent air. 

The rest of the riders had sullenly dragged themselves to bed, leaving him and Astrid alone outside their neighboring huts. Toothless had wanted to stay and comfort him, but Hiccup had denied his caring advances and the dragon had sadly walked off to join the other dragons in the stables, who weren't doing much better. They weren't stupid - they knew when they had been handed a defeat.

Astrid didn't say anything, just gave his shoulder a squeeze. She knew that not many words would be a comfort at the moment. That’s what he loved about Astrid. Even though she sometimes outright defied his orders and found it funny to annoy him, she understood him in a way that only Toothless had, knew his deepest fears and worries without asking, because she knew that he wouldn't want her asking about it. 

With a tired, quiet sigh, Hiccup took the hand that rested on his shoulder, and then led Astrid into his hut. She was right. He wasn't okay and he needed someone. Giving into this made him feel guilty for pushing his dragon away.

_Ah, Toothless is stubborn. Give him fifteen minutes and he’ll be back._

Astrid followed him up the stairs to his bedroom without hesitation. They had long since passed the awkward stages of their relationship, and were completely comfortable hanging out in each other’s rooms… and beds, which was why their huts were so close to each other.

Hiccup couldn't stifle a yawn as he began removing his leather armor. He hadn't slept since… well, he wasn't sure. It had been a while. 

“Let me help with that.” Astrid came up behind him and began undoing the clasps on his leather shirt, placing a kiss on his neck.

“Thanks, Astrid.” The gratitude was only halfhearted. If she had it in mind to make love to him, he felt like he wouldn't be a very good partner at the moment.

Hiccup stretched his arms once his armor was off and went and sat on his bed. His left leg was aching and throbbing, and he heaved a grunt as he started removing the metal prosthetic. He could see Astrid stripping to her undergarments out of the corner of his eye.

Placing the metal leg beside the bed, Hiccup leaned back and folded his hands behind his head. He wanted to sleep, but his mind kept racing, the gears turning like mad. He directed his blank gaze at the ceiling.

“And I thought you would be admiring the view,” Astrid’s voice came.

“Huh?” Hiccup lifted his head to look at her. Her undergarments consisted of a white pair of shorts that barely came to her thighs, and a roll of cloth wrapped around her breasts. She was undoing her braid and smiling at him. It didn't completely reach her eyes though, deep blue pools of worry. He knew that she was thinking about Heather, who they had tried and failed to rescue from the Dragon Hunters. The two had a very close relationship.

 _I should be trying to comfort her too,_ Hiccup realized, feeling like an idiot. He sat up and beckoned with his hand for her to come over.

Astrid's smile reached her eyes for a quick second, and she came and sat cross-legged in front of him on the wooden bed, knowing what he had in mind.

Hiccup brushed her tangled, but soft, flaxen-colored hair over her shoulder and began circling his thumbs into her back, just below her neck. 

“Mmm… You always know where I get knots, don't you?”

“Yep.” His tongue stuck out from between his teeth as he worked out the kinks in her muscles.

Neither of them spoke while Hiccup continued the massage, placing little, affectionate kisses along her neck and back. Her skin tasted of sweat, but he didn't care, because it was _her_ sweat.

After a while, she craned her head to look at him and announced, “Okay, your turn, big boy.”

Hiccup chuckled, still rubbing her back. “I haven't been taller than you for that long.”

“Well, you’re still taller than me. Turn around,” she commanded. “I said it was your turn.”

“Alright, alright.”

Hiccup flipped around and crossed his legs. The wood creaked a little as Astrid shifted.

“Arms up.”

“I didn't know your plan was to undress me,” Hiccup commented, doing as she said.

“Oh that’s just stage one,” Astrid joked, pulling the red tunic up and over his head. “My plan has many moving pieces and stages.”

Hiccup tossed the tunic aside, feeling a slight chill against his bare skin. “Sounds complicated. You might have to draw me a diagram so I can understand.”

“I’m not much of an artist.” She began working her thumbs into his neck. Her hands were blessedly warm.

A smirk tugged at Hiccup’s lips. “I could model.”

Astrid laughed, a bright, cheery sound that pierced the gloom of his worries.

“You? Nude modeling? I doubt you’d be able to keep it up for five minutes. You're too fidgety. And self conscious, which you shouldn't be.”

Hiccup rolled his eyes. He wasn't about to have that conversation with her again.

“Besides, I’d probably just end up turning you into a stick figure or something.” 

“But that would hardly capture my essence,” Hiccup said, trying to keep from laughing. “Where would all my freckles go?”

He was a little startled when Astrid placed a warm, wet kiss on his back, fingers digging into his shoulders to try to release the knots there. Then she kissed him again, in a different spot. And again. There didn't seem to be any pattern to it.

“What are you doing?”

“Just giving your freckles some appreciation.”

“Do you _want_ to be doing this all morning?” He had never really seen his back, but he was sure it was speckled as generously as the rest of him was.

Astrid didn't respond, only pressed her lips to his back again. 

“We’ll be doing something else hopefully,” she finally said, voice muffled against his skin.

“What if I told you I wasn't in the mood?”

“I’d put you in the mood.”

 _Yeah, she’s probably right._ It was hard to resist Astrid when her mind was set on sex, though sometimes he thought she enjoyed foreplay more than the actual act.

“Admit it. We both need it after that night we had.”

“You're always right, aren't you?” Hiccup asked, accepting defeat.

“Right now I am, yes.” Her voice was smug.

She abruptly stopped her massage and gave him a little shove, her way of telling him to change position.

“What will it be, m’lady?” It was her turn to be the dominant one. When they were first discovering all this with each other, it had been more like fighting than a show of passion, as they apparently both wanted to be on top and have control. Instead, they just decided to take turns. Well, most of the time.

“On your back, Haddock.”

Hiccup flipped himself around and resumed his earlier position, hands behind his head. His blood was beginning to feel hot with arousal.

Astrid straddled him, gave him a suggestive wink, and then began placing hungry, open-mouthed kisses over his chest and stomach. Hiccup gasped at the sensation of her mouth and ran his hands along her back, closing his eyes. She of course had been right about the both of them needing this.

He made a little sound of pleasure as she placed a firm hand over the growing bulge in his pants. His hips twisted upward and his head went back as she began stroking roughly in a circle.

“A-Astrid.” Her name was breathy and heavy with need. He loved and hated it when she teased him like this.

Her kisses trailed upwards and she ran her bottom lip along his neck. Hiccup tilted his head back to give her better access, a moan rising in his throat. Astrid smiled against his skin before bringing her mouth to his pulse point and sucking gently.

Hiccup groaned and tightly gripped her waist, hips rolling upwards. A gasp parted his lips as she gave the bulge in his pants a squeeze.

Astrid took this opportunity to kiss him and slide her tongue into his mouth. He happily entwined his tongue with hers and kissed back, hips bucking up in a gentle rhythm of their own accord, which bounced Astrid lightly against his chest.

“Not yet,” she said lowly as she withdrew, a string of saliva dangling between them before it decided to make itself at home on Hiccup’s chin. 

“I know,” he groaned in frustration, which grew as Astrid withdrew her hand from the part of his body most craving her touch. He couldn't keep the slightly pathetic whine from coming out of his mouth.

Astrid giggled. “I still never imagined you being the loud one.” She began nibbling on his left earlobe, and he just helped prove her statement with a pleased: “hmm…”

“You make sounds too,” he protested. 

Astrid gave his ear a little kiss. “Not as much as you.”

“I’m just… sensitive, okay?!”

“I _like_ it.” Astrid’s voice was a growl in his ear. She dragged her open mouth along his jawline before sucking on his adam’s apple. His chest rose and fell with heavy, eager breathing.

She rose off of him and excitement and lust burned hot through his veins. She shifted down his legs so that she was now out of reach, and he wasn't quite sure what to do with his hands. He just placed them by his side and gripped the blanket, preparing himself for what was coming next, opening his eyes to watch.

Astrid smiled warmly at him as she undid the drawstring on his pants, eyes bright with lust.

Hiccup was relieved when his erection sprang free, the confines of his clothing having come close to being painful. She stroked upwards, light and quick, and he hissed through gritted teeth, fingers curling into the blanket.

Astrid gave him a small smirk and did it again, barely keeping contact with his throbbing member. Hiccup twisted his head, releasing a pleased and frustrated cry. It was always like this with Astrid in control.

“Ughn! Astrid, could you just get on with it?!” he cried as she continued her almost nonexistent ministrations.

“Make me,” she retorted playfully, whisking her hand up, barely touching him.

Hiccup growled low in his throat, frustrated, and began to sit up. That's when Astrid wrapped her entire hand around his cock and pumped up and down.

“ _Ohh…_ ” He settled back down onto his back and closed his eyes. “Mm, yeah.”

Astrid alternated between slow and fast movements, sometimes rough, sometimes gentle. Hiccup bit his lip and dug his fingers into the blanket underneath him, keening in his throat.

She rolled her thumb over the tip and just underneath it. Hiccup was gasping, bucking into her hand, wishing for more pleasurable contact, more friction.

“Hey, stop moving or I might end up biting you.”

Hiccup forced himself to remain still, sexual excitement fluttering in his belly. He watched as Astrid licked up his shaft and sucked the head into her blissfully hot and wet mouth. His lips parted in a moan and he found his fingers curling in her hair, nerves alight and tingling.

“Mm…” Astrid roamed her head in a circle, the vibrations from her voice sending tingles through his body. She placed her hands on his pelvis to hold him in place and slowly took most of him into her mouth. Hiccup gave a sharp cry and tugged on her hair, a shudder running through his body. It was just so _wet._

He unintentionally made a choking sound as she started to bob her head up and down, humming lightly and coating him in spit. It was times like this where Hiccup wished she could take him all the way into her throat.

 _Oh gods, she’s beautiful._ Astrid was always beautiful, but she seemed even more so when she was pleasuring him like this. He became harder just from watching her.

She pulled off of him with a popping sound and gulped in a breath, lips pink and coated in spit, her eyes bright. She drew Hiccup’s hands away from her hair, gave them a squeeze, and then gripped the hem of his pants.

“I think it’s time these came off now. Can't hide your cute little butt forever.”

Hiccup’s face turned furiously red, though he had known for a while that Astrid was interested in his butt. He just sometimes felt awkward about how straightforward she was.

He wriggled a little to help her pull his pants off, and she uncaringly tossed them aside, bringing her hands down and in between his thighs, squeezing the soft, but muscular flesh there. 

“Damn, I know I say it every time, but riding dragons has made your thighs irresistible,” Astrid commented, signaling with her touch that she wanted him to spread his legs apart. Hiccup happily obliged. He was sensitive in this area.

“Mm, Astrid!” She had taken his cock in one hand and squeezed, the other holding his right leg down just above the knee. She brought her mouth to the sensitive flesh, beginning to suck on it.

Hiccup shut his eyes and smiled lazily, opening his legs even wider, inviting her to do whatever she pleased. She ran her mouth all along the inside of his thigh, hand pumping up and down around his cock in a slow, agonizing rhythm. 

Her ministrations moved up his thigh until she reached his scrotum, which she generously sucked on. This caused Hiccup to gasp and cry out, twisting his whole body into that insurmountable pleasure. Her hand still worked at his manhood. 

“Astrid, I think you should - ah, ah! - g-get on with it and mount me before - _ahhh._ ” 

She suddenly lost all contact with him. “Yeah, maybe I should.” He could feel her moving and then heard the rustle of fabric. He opened his eyes to find that she had discarded her shorts, revealing her delicious-looking nether regions and a patch of soft blonde fuzz.

Hiccup gripped her hips as she steadied herself above him and took his cock in one hand, carefully guiding it into herself. He wasn't ashamed of the loud moan that spread his lips as she settled herself down on him. She apparently liked his noises, and she had made a similar one too.

“Gods, Hiccup, you feel good!” She rolled on top of him, hands firmly placed on his stomach. 

“Agh, so do you, Astrid.” So warm and wet and _perfect_. Being completely sheathed inside her gave Hiccup a sense of completion, like they had been made one. He didn't know how to explain his affection for her, hadn't even told her those three important words yet. However, sometimes a thing like that had to be demonstrated.

He thrusted up into her with a grunt, using her hips to pull her closer. Closer. He just wanted to be closer to her, craved her entire being: body, mind, and soul. He couldn't get _close_ enough.

Astrid allowed him to take control for the time being, the gasps and moans rushing from her mouth a clear sign of her contentment. He worked both their bodies for them, breaking into a sweat, grunting at the pleasure and exertion. It just felt so good.

“Ah, ah! Hiccup!” Astrid exclaimed, tossing her head back. He knew he had hit her somewhere good, and this caused her to take control again, bouncing up and down, rubbing him against that spot and moaning.

Hiccup couldn't keep his voice from joining hers. He met her rhythm, arching up into her every time she came down, connecting in the center in pure bliss and agonizing pleasure. 

Astrid quieted as she bit her lip, bending backwards with her hands behind her, intent on moving up and down on top of him. 

Hiccup’s attention wandered to the way her still-concealed breasts bounced with their movements. His breaths were heaving rapidly in and out, hands delving under the fabric to touch her beautiful curves and soft skin. 

He sat and pushed the fabric up, placed his hands on her back to pull her closer to him, mouth craving the taste and feel of her skin. Astrid gasped quite loudly as he sucked her right nipple into his mouth, grasped at his shoulders and hair. He moaned around it, right hand fondling and squeezing the other breast, left gripping at her waist. She was doing heavenly things to him with her hips, and her voice sounded so lovely. 

Hiccup was going to migrate his attentions to the other breast, but Astrid suddenly took his face in both her hands, tilted it upwards, and kissed him hard, bruising his lips no doubt. They entwined tongues, breaking apart every now and then to breathe and share their pleased moans between each other’s lips.

Hiccup’s body tingled, muscles in his stomach and lower abdomen beginning to tighten, signs that his climax was approaching. He could feel that Astrid was on the verge of hers too, her walls beginning to tighten around him.

Astrid forced him back down onto his back and they broke their furious and passionate kiss. She was smiling at him in a sexual nature, mouth open as she panted. He probably had on a similar look, nerves on fire where they connected.

He threw back his head and literally wailed as his climax thrummed down from the base of his spine, white-hot and exhilarating. He saw lights behind his eyelids as it reached its intensity. Astrid followed about a second behind him, grinding down hard, clutching him tight to ride it out. The sensation of her walls clenching around him raised his voice to a scream, and she joined him in a high-pitched yelp. 

His body went numb from exhaustion after, and so did his mind. He tiredly rolled onto his side, Astrid shifting off of him. 

Hiccup couldn't open his eyes to look at her, couldn't see how beautiful she looked after her completion with him. He strained to pull the blanket over the both of them, the exhaustion that he had been holding back for hours hitting him hard.

“Thank you, Astrid,” he breathed, pulling the blanket up to his chin. He felt her gently move his sweat-damp hair out of his face.

“You too, Hiccup,” she responded quietly.

He tiredly smiled, and then promptly passed out.

 

Hiccup woke a few hours later to a shocked squeak from Astrid. He tried rolling over to see what was going on, but there was a large weight on his back.

“Snotlout! Can’t you knock?!”

Disoriented, Hiccup opened his eyes to see Snotlout standing by the stairs. Astrid was hurriedly tugging the blanket around them both, and the weight on his back made a warbling sound. Apparently Toothless had joined them at some point.

“Can’t _you_ get a room?!”

“Snotlout, this _is_ my room,” Hiccup responded tiredly. Toothless made a sound as if he agreed. The air was squeezed out of him as the dragon shifted, curling himself around both him and Astrid. He was able to roll onto his side. “What the Hel do you want?”

“Fishlegs said he spotted something in the sky, moving fast,” Snotlout reported, crossing his arms. He then turned away a little and adjusted his helmet in embarrassment, only now realizing how rude he had been. He turned his back and strode over to pretend he was looking at one of the drawings Hiccup had pinned on the wall. “Says it’s probably a dragon.”

“Wake the twins if they’re not up already, and the rest of you go see what it is,” Hiccup ordered, thinking fast. “Astrid and I will be right behind you.”

“Alright.” He turned towards the stairs, then whipped an accusing finger at them. “Just don’t go play ‘hide the spear’ while the rest of us are working.”

“ _Snotlout!_ ” Astrid shrieked, beginning to step out of bed. Hiccup knew that if she got mad enough, it didn’t matter that she was naked: she would go after anyone who she deemed deserving with her axe. Snotlout apparently knew this too, scrambling down the stairs and disappearing from view.

“I’m going, I’m going!” There was the distinct sound of the door being slammed shut.

“Why do we put up with him?” Astrid asked, rolling around to face Hiccup, face flushed with anger and embarrassment.

“He’s an important part of the team, Astrid,” Hiccup reminded her, as he often had to. “Hey, maybe this will make him stop harassing you.”

Astrid sat and climbed out of bed. “I don’t know. That dirty muttonhead saw my breasts. I’ll probably have to beat the image out of his head.”

Hiccup chuckled. Astrid’s temperament could be irritating and endearing. He reached up a hand to pat Toothless on the side.

“Okay, Toothless, time to get up.”

The dragon hopped off the bed, and Hiccup sat up to find him looking at him with his huge, intelligent green eyes.

“Sorry about earlier, bud.” Hiccup swung his legs over the side of the bed. “I was just upset is all.”

Toothless looked to Astrid, who was dressing on the other side of the bed, and then back to him. He tilted his head and lifted his ears, looking to be in a better mood. He made a cooing sound in his throat.

“Thanks for understanding, bud.” He rubbed Toothless affectionately on the head, comforted by the familiar feeling of his black scales.

Hiccup dressed in fresh clothes - though he wished he had time to bathe - and attached his metal leg. He was hungry too but that would apparently have to wait. After saddling Toothless, who was a lot less excited than usual, he and Astrid took to the sky. It wasn't long until they caught up with the others.

“How’d you two sleep?” Fishlegs asked in a rather suggestive voice, shooting a wink over his thick shoulder. 

Hiccup rolled his eyes and turned to glare at Snotlout.

“What?” he retorted rather innocently. “I just said-”

Hiccup waved his hand dismissively. “No, no, I don't want to hear what you said.”

“I do!” That was Ruffnut, swooping in above them on Barf and Belch, her brother seated on the dragon’s other head. “I wasn't paying attention the first time!”

Hiccup just made a discontented grumbling sound and tried not to pay attention to them. Looking over at Astrid, he could tell that she was doing the same. Neither of them were in the mood for this. He wondered how the others were.

Deciding to focus on what they were really out in the cold for among gray clouds and icy drizzle, Hiccup sat straight on Toothless and pulled his looking glass from the saddlebag. He roamed it around, trying to find what Fishlegs had spotted. 

“I don't see anything!” Hiccup called behind him to Fishlegs. Toothless had easily surpassed Meatlug and the rest of the gang, who appeared to have finally stopped snickering about his early morning activities. “You’re sure it was this way?”

“Positive. It looked like a drag-” He was abruptly cut off as something large and fast swooped out of the clouds ahead of them. 

“Watch out!” Toothless pulled sharply onto his side so that they went into a little spiral, Hiccup dropping his spyglass to hold tightly to the saddle. He could easily make another one though.

The dragon flipped around so they were facing the other direction. The other riders looked to be okay, just a bit shocked.

“Oh, guys.” Fishlegs’ voice sounded jumpy. “It’s coming back around.”

“Alright.” Hiccup could see it now: a fluid, gray, shimmery mass. Definitely a dragon. The leadership and strategist part of his brain instantly took over. “Snotlout and the twins, you flank left. Astrid and I will flank right. Fishlegs, up. You might need to drop and hit this thing.”

The other riders instantly did as they were commanded, and Hiccup gripped the handholds on the saddle tightly, ready for anything.

“Wait a second.” Astrid was leaning forward on Stormfly and squinting. “Is that-?”

“Stop!” Hiccup shouted, waving one arm, finally seeing what Astrid did. “Hold on, guys! It’s Heather!”

The dragon speeding towards them could be none other than Windshear, and the girl on her back was definitely a happy sight.

Astrid reached her first out of pure excitement, having Stormfly hover right next to the razorwhip. 

“Heather! Oh my gods, are you okay? I'm sorry, we didn't see you. How did you escape? Wha-”

“It’s okay, Astrid.” Heather’s voice was tired. The rest of the dragons swooped in, creating a circle around her. “I didn't see you either.”

“How’d you get away?” Hiccup asked, stunned to see her. He was certain that Viggo had killed her by now, and was very glad to find that he hadn't. “Are you hurt? Did anyone follow you?”

“I’m fine, I'm fine,” she responded abjectly, shaking her head. Hiccup backed up Toothless a little. They were probably overwhelming her. “Just tired.”

“How’d you get away?” Astrid asked. “We barely did.”

“Uh, correction,” Hiccup butted in. “We only got away because Viggo wanted us to.”

“Well, great,” Snotlout exclaimed. “This could be a trap!”

“No, guys, no,” Heather instantly began to protest.

“Not you, Heather,” Hiccup assured her, surprised that Snotlout had thought so quickly. He scanned the ocean below them. “At least, not intentionally. Viggo might have-”

“It wasn’t my idea to escape!” Heather suddenly cut in. “I-I was ready to give up.” She hung her head, damp black hair falling in front of her face. “I was sure Viggo had gotten you, and…” She just shrugged sullenly.

Realization suddenly burst into Hiccup’s head, and he wasn’t so sure how he felt about it. “It was Dagur. Dagur let you go.”

Heather looked at him, her green eyes big and filled with an emotion he couldn’t discern. She nodded.


	3. Chapter 2

Hiccup paced the clubhouse, again and again, one arm folded, his chin in his hand. The others were watching him with a mix of curiosity and concern.

“Hiccup, why are you so worried about him?” Astrid asked. She turned so she could speak to him better and straddled her chair, wrists resting on the back of it. “He did something good for once. He let Heather go!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But he went against Viggo’s orders. What does that entail for us?”

“Well, wouldn’t it be good if he wasn’t working for him anymore?” Heather inquired. She looked like she needed sleep, but she had wanted to talk things through first. “And, well… since Viggo has the Dragon Eye, he won’t be after you any time soon.” She had seemed tentative to say that last part.

Hiccup stopped his pacing and pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the beginnings of a stress headache. “I… I don’t know,” he admitted. He looked at the rest of his friends, feeling hopeless. “I don’t know what to do now.”

“Duh, go kick his butt for taking the Dragon Eye!” Tuffnut exclaimed enthusiastically, slamming a fist on the table.

“Actually, I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Tuff,” Fishlegs piped in a little anxiously. “Viggo just kicked our butts.”

“To Hel with Viggo!” Hiccup suddenly shouted, waving his hands and stepping forward. “He beat us, he’s smarter than me, and I don’t know if there’s a way we can get it back! But he’s not the problem right now. He won’t be after us anytime soon. I’m worried about Dagur.”

“Hiccup, he let me go,” Heather said gently. 

“Yeah, and what’d he do after that?” Hiccup snapped. “We have no idea! Is he still with Viggo? Did he go back and lie? Or is he heading this way right now? We have _no_ idea!”

The room fell silent for a moment, but then Snotlout spoke up.

“Or, he could just be one of the good guys.”

Hiccup turned on him, eyebrows raised. “ _Excuse_ me?” The idea was ridiculous. Dagur the Deranged, chief of the Berserkers, who had waged war almost pointlessly and was bent on vengeance, being one of the _good_ guys?!

“Think about it,” Snotlout continued. “He put his life on the line for Heather.” He gestured to her, who was sitting next to Astrid. “He actually cares for someone. Dagur usually thinks too highly of himself to risk his life for someone else.”

“Yeah,” Ruffnut butted in. “And why would he be coming here anyway?”

Hiccup opened his mouth to say something, raised a finger, but then frowned and turned away, folding his arms. They probably thought he was paranoid, but he couldn’t help it. Dagur had made it more than obvious that he had an obsession with him, and it was much more than just a drive to best him. It was worse.

“Toothless and I are going to go patrol the island,” he announced, deciding that he was done with this conversation. “Make sure we’re all clear before the storm hits.”

“But we could use you here,” Fishlegs protested. “We should get some repairs done so that we’re not stuck in the storm without proper shelter.”

“Then just fix the clubhouse,” Hiccup ordered, facing him. “It’ll be more productive if you’re all working on one thing. We’ll wait out the storm in here.”  
Then, he left before anyone could say anything else.

 

Usually Hiccup felt free when he was flying, up above the world with his best friend, but now he just felt bogged down by heavy chains that were trying to pull him back to Earth, back to the mess that was his reality.

“What are we gonna do Toothless?” he asked glumly, lying back on the saddle. He studied the gray clouds that weren’t very far above him. They were getting thicker, and it kept up a constant drizzle. He found the cold droplets refreshing though.

The dragon made a barking sound that Hiccup knew as his _'I don’t know.'_

“It’s just so crazy, bud,” Hiccup continued. He didn’t feel silly talking to Toothless. He was the most intelligent out of all the dragons they’d discovered so far, and could understand what he was saying perfectly. “But I guess we don’t have to worry about Viggo for the moment, right? We don’t have anything else he wants.”

_Except for dragons._

Hiccup brushed that aside. The hunter would find plenty of dragons elsewhere. The thought wasn’t very comforting, but at least he would stay away from theirs for a while longer.

“Am I paranoid?” Hiccup asked honestly. “Do I really have a reason to worry about Dagur?”

A bright flash of light broke Hiccup out of his thoughts and he jerked up in the saddle, reaching for the handholds. A crack of thunder followed shortly after.

He guided Toothless far away from the clouds, studied the island below him. It made him sad to look at it, destroyed and ransacked by the Dragon Hunters in search of the Dragon Eye. Then his eyes moved to the water. It was dark and choppy, large waves crashing against the shore. His better judgment told him he should go back, but he wasn’t ready to deal with people right now. None of them understood. Well, except for Astrid, but that was only a thing that they talked about in private, and if so very rarely. Toothless honestly knew more of his worries and hopes than any human.

Toothless made a sound at him, asking if they should land.

“Soon, bud,” Hiccup assured him, patting the side of his head. “Just a little longer, okay? You’ll thank me later. Won’t be fun being cramped inside with everybody else for hours.”

The Night Fury made a sound of agreement, beat his wings and picked up the pace. Might as well stretch them while he could.

“What are his motives anyway, Toothless?” Hiccup asked, swooping down over the shore and heading along it. “I mean, besides me. But why is he so obsessed with me anyway? Really, look at me. It's not like I'm the big buff Viking material.” Hiccup sighed and rubbed his friend between the ears. The familiar feel of his scales was comforting. 

“Or maybe that's what it is,” Hiccup mused. “Maybe it’s because I'm different.”

Toothless made a worried cooing sound, angled his head towards him.

“Let’s head back, Toothless,” he decided. “No one's coming after me in this weather.”

 

 

He was soaking wet by the time he got back - the clouds had suddenly opened up and started pouring. The clubhouse was in better shape than when he had left it, and everyone else was already cramped inside with their dragons. There was hardly any room to move around.

Shivering from the freezing water that soaked through his clothes, Hiccup sat down in front of the fire, closing the door behind him just in time to avoid a blast of wind. No one moved to talk to him at first, understanding that he was upset.

Snotlout and Tuffnut were giggling and whispering to each other in one corner, leaning against Hookfang, who seemed to be sleeping. He envied how they could seem so happy after the crushing loss they had taken. 

“Hey,” Astrid greeted him, sitting on the bench beside him. 

Hiccup glanced over at Snotlout and Tuffnut again. “Are those two a thing?”

“Looks like.” Astrid laughed a little. “Boy, are we in for a boatload of trouble. Guess I don't have to beat the image of me naked out of Snotlout's head.”

“Yeah.” Hiccup gave a weak smile and then looked around the room. Ruffnut looked bored, picking at one of the floorboards, while Barf nudged her in the side. Fishlegs was napping against Meatlug, who was also fast asleep. Heather was curled up with Windshear in one corner, back turned to the rest of them.

“How is she?” Hiccup asked, nodding in her direction.

“Getting some much needed sleep,” Astrid responded.

“Did they… do anything to her? She’s not hurt or anything, right?”

Astrid shook her head. “She's fine. Dagur got her out before-”

“Can we not talk about him?” Hiccup asked moodily, turning his head away.

“Sounds like you need to,” Astrid commented. Stormfly came over to her as she spoke, and she began absentmindedly stroking her on the head. 

Hiccup jumped as Toothless nudged him in the back. He turned to look at him, and he nodded towards Astrid, telling him to talk to her. He rolled his eyes at the dragon, who flicked an ear in return.

“Really, Toothless? You too?”

“He's got a point,” Astrid agreed with his friend. She put a hand on his wet shoulder. “What's on your mind?”

Hiccup sighed in defeat and looked at her, met her concerned gaze. “It's Dagur. If he's not with Viggo then he has no one holding him back from coming after me.”

Astrid thankfully didn't argue with the fact that that was what the Berserker chief wanted. She knew that Hiccup’s paranoia had a very real cause.

“Well, if he tries, I’ll chop off his head and then Stormfly can cook him. No one gets to have you.” She squeezed his shoulder and smiled. “Except for me.”

“But killing doesn't seem like the right thing,” Hiccup argued.

“What if it saves your life?”

He gave her a pointed look. “You know he's more interested in keeping me alive.” He shuddered thinking about what he most certainly wanted him alive for, looked into the fire. It would go against his nature, and not only that, it was someone who had been his enemy for years. Everything about it sickened him.

“Hey.” Astrid cupped his chin and made him look at her. “You're turning green. Stop thinking about it.”

“But-” He was stopped as she suddenly kissed him on the lips. They had both learned that it was an effective way to shut him up.

Hiccup felt more relaxed after the quick kiss, and even a slight sense of relief. He had Astrid. He would always have Astrid.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. Astrid didn't ask what he was thanking her for, just leaned her head uncaringly against his wet shoulder.

 

“Do it! Do it!” Hiccup was startled from his sleep on the floor beside the fire and sat up, rubbing at his eyes. Ruffnut continued her enthusiastic chant.

“What is it now?” Hiccup asked unhappily. He didn't like being woken up, especially not now with the headache he was nursing.

“We're playing truth or dare,” Fishlegs reported excitedly. “And I dared Tuffnut to kiss Snotlout.”

“Do it!” Ruffnut shouted again, punching her red-faced brother in the arm. Snotlout was looking equally as embarrassed. 

“Fine!” 

Hiccup couldn't help laughing as Tuffnut grabbed Snotlout’s face and kissed him sloppily on the mouth. Then he sat back down, arms crossed.

“There. You happy now?”

“The question is whether you're happy now,” Ruffnut teased.

“Well I'm not!” Snotlout snapped. “That was a terrible kiss!”

Hiccup shook his head and laid back down, resting his head on Toothless’ side, who was watching the game with a look of amusement. 

“Yeah, ‘cause you’ve totally kissed someone before, Snotlout,” Fishlegs joked.

“But he has!” Tuffnut argued. “We kissed last night! A-And the night before that!”

“Ha, I knew it!” Ruffnut exclaimed. 

“Oh my gods,” came Astrid's voice somewhere near Hiccup. “Could you guys please be quiet? I'm trying to sleep. And so is Heather. If you wake her I’m punching one of you in the nose. She really needs it.”

“A punch in the nose or sleep?” Ruffnut asked innocently.

Hiccup smiled tiredly as Astrid just responded with a wordless growl, nuzzled into Toothless’ side. Everything was beginning to feel a bit more normal. Comforted by that fact, he drifted off again.


	4. Chapter 3

_Even with his eyes open, Hiccup couldn’t see a thing. He was laid out on his back. He tried moving his limbs but it was as if they were stuck together. A sense of panic gripped him and he swiveled his head around, blinking, trying to see something in this utter darkness._

_He gasped in surprise as a hand touched him, ran gently over his torso. His chest heaved wildly, and he tried desperately to move, but only his head would listen to his commands. He opened his mouth to yell for help, but nothing came out, his vocal chords refusing to work for him. He just mouthed the word hopelessly, thrashed his head as he tried to work his body out of this strange paralysis._

_Giddy, maniacal laughter reached his ears, and his heart leaped into his throat. The same hand was touching him again, trailing down between his legs. Hiccup tried to scream despite the loss of his voice. Another hand gripped his face to hold him still before something wet and warm touched his lips. He tried to shrink away from the kiss, but there was absolutely nowhere for him to go. There was a beard scratching against his skin._

_More hands, on his shoulders, shaking him hard. Someone was distantly calling his name._

_The hand between his legs squeezed him in a place it really shouldn’t have, and he jerked, suddenly regaining the ability to move. He shoved his assailant off of him, punched him hard in the face. He moved to sit up, but there were hands on him again, holding him down, too many to count._

Hiccup screamed himself awake, thrashing and flailing. Or was he still dreaming? He was being restrained by multiple people, and he screamed again, struggling to get free.

“Hiccup! Hiccup!” Astrid’s voice broke through his panic and he felt her hands on his face. “It’s okay! It’s just a dream! _Hiccup!_ ”

He flicked his eyes open, gasping for breath. His struggles stopped as he took a quick look at his surroundings. The clubhouse. Tuffnut and Snotlout had a hold of each of his arms, and Fishlegs was restraining his legs. Heather and Ruffnut were there too, everyone’s faces hovering over him, including Toothless. Astrid was soothingly stroking her thumb across his cheek. The sound of the storm raging outside around them pulled him back to reality.

“Wha-What happened?” His voice was a little hoarse, as though he had been using it too much - he’d been screaming in his sleep. He looked to Astrid for an answer, gave a start when he saw her, eyes going wide. Her left eye was shut, the skin around it an angry red that was quickly turning blue.

“It’s okay.” He only now heard the pain in her voice, though she spoke softly. “You didn’t mean to.”

“You’re not planning on hitting anyone else, are you?”

“No, Snotlout, you can let me go.” His friends released him and he fell back on his elbows, trying to steady his breathing and his rapidly beating heart. Astrid was still straddling him, still stroking his face.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed to her. A crash of thunder nearly drowned out his words. “Just a- Just a bad dream.” He sat up and took Astrid’s hands in his. She said nothing.

“Does that… happen a lot?” Heather asked tentatively. She helped Astrid to her feet, inspecting her eye rather than looking at Hiccup.

“Bad dreams?” Tuffnut piped in. “Oh yeah, all the time. I always have this one about a winged troll that steals my blanket.” 

Hiccup and everyone else present gave him an odd look, which he just responded to with a shrug. Hiccup pulled his knees up and clutched his head in his hands. He was beginning to feel sick, the events of the dream coming back to him. Toothless made a gentle cooing sound and rubbed his head against his shoulder, understanding that he was in distress. He could feel everyone looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to speak.

“I’m fine,” he finally said, though his voice lacked strength, showing his words as a lie. “I’m fine, really. Heather, could you take care of Astrid? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The group around him quietly dispersed, understanding that he wanted to be alone. Well, as alone as one could be cramped in a room with six other people and their dragons.

Toothless laid down behind him, offering himself as something to lean on, but Hiccup didn’t move from his position other than wrapping his arms around his knees. His breathing was beginning to slow, but his heart still beat fast and loud. There were tears forming in the corners of his eyes and he was feeling nauseas. 

“Hey.”

He brought up his head to see Snotlout sitting in front of him, a genuine look of concern across his features. He groaned and put his head back down. This was the last person he wanted to talk to about this.

“It was about Dagur, wasn’t it?”

Hiccup was surprised by the question, and he looked at him again, blinking the tears out of his eyes. His cousin was honestly a lot more perceptive than he made himself out to be.

“Yeah,” he replied weakly, letting go of his legs and leaning back on Toothless. He stroked the dragon’s head with his right hand to calm himself. “Pretty ridiculous, right?”

Snotlout shook his head. “Not with the position you’re in. You’re brave, Hiccup. If Dagur had his eyes set on me I’d have taken off into the blue and never come back. He’s a scary dude.”

“Doesn’t sound like such a bad idea,” Hiccup said grudgingly, resting his hand on Toothless’ head, who made a gurgling noise. “But I thought you were entertaining the idea that he’s changed.”

“I don’t know anymore, Hiccup,” Snotlout answered honestly, looking confused and worried. “Letting Heather go doesn’t necessarily mean that his obsession with you has just gone away. She was telling us that he talked about you a lot, even though they were, um, you know.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

Hiccup was disturbed by the fact that Heather had been sleeping with her brother, but he couldn’t completely fault her for it. Most of her life she hadn’t even known she had a brother, and she never had anyone around to tell her that such a thing was wrong. The thought that it was immoral would never cross Dagur’s mind either. He didn’t have morals.

“I just don’t know what to do, Snotlout,” he admitted hopelessly. “What’s the point of all this? Viggo has the Dragon Eye, Dagur’s who-knows-where, and the Edge is destroyed. Maybe we should just give up and go home.”

“But this is our home, Hiccup,” Snotlout protested, though it was gently. “It’s my home. Here, I don’t have to worry about my father disapproving of everything I do.”

Hiccup sighed and rested his head back against Toothless, staring at the ceiling. He saw his point in that.

“We rest up and recover,” Snotlout continued. “We fix Dragon’s Edge and go after Viggo, because nothing good can come out of him having the Dragon Eye. And we’ll all keep an eye out for Dagur. We’re not going to let him lay a single hand on you.”

“Thanks, Snotlout.” His gratitude was only half-hearted. “But if Dagur is serious about coming after me, I don’t think that anything can stop him.”

“Unless you had a different attitude,” Snotlout said. “What happened to that determined, crazy-plan-making Hiccup?”

“He died last night.” Then Hiccup rolled onto his side and turned his back to his cousin, because he didn’t want anyone to see him cry.

 

 

The storm raged on for hours. There were times where Hiccup was afraid that the shrieking wind would tear a wall away. The walls stayed put, though the ceiling sprouted multiple leaks, making the fire sputter in the stove. They were all wet and chilly and miserable, sitting around and hardly talking. Hiccup, however, didn't speak at all, not even to Astrid, whose left eye was black and blue and swollen shut. He wanted to apologize a hundred times, but Astrid would never accept any of it. She had apparently already forgiven him, though he didn't feel deserving of it.

He just felt hopeless, like there was this black cloud hovering over him, constantly reminding him of their crushing defeat and the terrible events that were certainly coming because of it. He didn’t feel fit to be a leader. His lead had nearly killed all of them and given the enemy the one thing they had been trying to keep from them. Yet he could feel that they still looked up to him, still respected him. 

_But how can they trust my judgment?_ Hiccup asked himself. _When it brought us all this?_

He was afraid of someone asking what they were supposed to do now. He didn’t want to face his friends and tell them that he didn’t know. His mind had been racing for hours. There had to be some way to get the Dragon Eye back, some way to best Viggo.

_But he’s so much smarter than me. He anticipated my every move._

Hiccup wondered how Viggo could know his mind so easily, especially since they had only met once, and that had been at the end of his “game.” Dagur hadn’t had any contact with him until recently, and Ryker, Viggo’s older brother, couldn’t have honestly reported much about him. Maybe just the little he was told was enough. Maybe they were similar in some way.

That thought just darkened Hiccup’s mood more, and he shuffled around to seat himself facing the wall, putting his back to everyone. They were leaving him well enough alone, but he was just making sure they would continue to do so. He was comforted by Toothless’ presence though. He just lay curled up around him, didn’t make any sound or inquire with his intelligent green eyes.

Though, rather abruptly, Toothless slid his tail aside and allowed someone to sit down next to him. He looked to see that it was Astrid. Of course the dragon would let her by instead of guarding his solitude.

Hiccup anxiously twiddled his fingers, looked at the wall instead of at Astrid, who said nothing. She was looking at the floor, a terrible tension between them.

“I think the storm’s almost over,” she finally said. Her voice sounded hopeful. “The wind and rain aren’t so loud anymore.”

“Yeah,” Hiccup responded offhandedly. 

They fell back into silence, and Toothless made a deep rumbling in his chest, obviously sensing the tension.

“It’s my fault, you know.”

“Hmm?” Hiccup finally worked up the courage to look at her, guilt swarming him at the sight of her eye. 

She pointed to it. “It’s my fault. I… I shouldn’t have gotten on top of you like that. It would have been better to flip you onto your stomach. I was just so worried. I…” She trailed off, her good eye swimming with worry. “You were screaming, and thrashing, and i-it was just so awful. I’d never seen you like that before, and-”

“Astrid.” Hiccup spoke her name softly, cutting her off. Her voice had begun rising and she had been growing frantic. She looked on the verge of tears. Astrid only ever showed so much emotion when she was under duress. Hiccup took her face in his hands, stroked his thumb across her cheek, just below her swollen eye. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”

“Why do you always lie?” The question was gentle, concerned.

_And she always sees right through me. Of course._

“Maybe to make the people around me feel better,” he answered. “Can’t say that it helps me out too much though.”

Astrid gave a weak smile, took his hands from her face and held them. Her touch was warm and comforting. 

“What do we do now?”

Hiccup tried very hard not to yank his hands away. That question. Instead, he just held hers tight, trying to brace himself to say it.

“I…” He trailed off, looking away from her. Then he did pull his hands back, folding them in his lap. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

 

 

“We need a plan.” Hiccup leaned himself on the table around the stove in the clubhouse. The storm was nearing its end; the wind hadn’t risen to a shriek for about half an hour and the rain wasn’t so loud on the roof.

The other dragon riders bustled over. They were all fidgety and anxious to get out of this cramped space. They looked to be glad that Hiccup was apparently talking again, and they seemed hopeful.

“Yeah, Hiccup’s back!” Ruffnut pumped her fist in the air. Hiccup tightened his lips, feeling very unsure of himself.

Astrid came over and stood quietly by his side, Heather not far from her. They seemed very protective of each other. 

“One of us needs to fly back to Berk and tell my dad what’s going on,” Hiccup stated. “I didn’t want to get him or anyone else involved, but I don’t think we can do this on our own. Fishlegs, you have to map out absolutely everything you can remember from the Dragon Eye, even if some of the information is a little fuzzy: every dragon, every inscription. We need to have some way to follow Viggo.” He paused and looked down at the table, his hands, frowned again. A detailing of the information on the Dragon Eye put together from memory wouldn’t be nearly enough when it came to Viggo. They were so many steps behind him.

“What about Dagur?” Snotlout asked a little tentatively.

“I was getting to that.” Hiccup’s tone was bitter. He turned to Heather. “You know Dagur better than any of us. What do you think he did after setting you free?”

Heather tapped her chin in thought. “I don’t think he went back to Viggo,” she responded. “It wouldn’t be like him to go back and lie about it. He didn’t like taking orders from either him or Ryker. My guess is that he took his fleet and probably a very small portion of Viggo’s and left while the base was under attack. No one would have noticed he was missing for a few hours.”

“Okay, so where would he go? Would he set up some sort of base of operations?” Hiccup didn’t know whether or not to be relieved or concerned by that information. He would rather have all his enemies in one place, rather than them splitting off from each other. Besides, it had been Viggo and Ryker that had been holding Dagur back from going after him.

“Probably not,” Heather said, looking rather uneasy. She folded her hands behind her back and scraped one foot uncomfortably against the floor. “I mean, he’s probably coming here.”

“Yeah, I thought as much. Thanks, Heather.” He looked all around the group, trying to make a decision.

“You know what, I’ll be the one to go tell my dad what’s going on. Besides, it is sort of my fault we’re in this mess right now, isn’t it? I mean, I was the one who took the Dragon Eye from that abandoned ship.”

“Well, the Dragon Hunters shouldn’t have left it there in the first place!” Tuffnut exclaimed. 

Hiccup ignored Tuffnut, though he was just trying to make him feel better. He just continued giving orders. “Astrid, you’re in charge of defenses and repairs. Send terror mail my way if anything goes wrong.”

Astrid gave him a curt nod.

“And Fishlegs, I don’t want to rush you, but the map better be done by the time I get back from Berk,” Hiccup continued. Fishlegs nodded, looking determined. “And hopefully I’ll have my dad, the auxiliary riders, and a fleet of ships. We’re going to need to throw everything we have at these Dragon Hunters. Keep an eye out for them, and for Dagur.”

“Wait, Hiccup, I have an idea,” Heather piped in, stepping forward. “Dagur hasn’t been home in three years. Berzerk is probably in complete anarchy without a chief, but I’m his sister, so naturally I could rule them too, right?” She looked uncomfortable, which made sense. Heather wasn’t very good with people or trusting them. “I could go to Berzerk, organize them, and bring them to fight.”

“Heather, you don’t have to go head-to-head with Dagur,” Hiccup said sympathetically. “I don’t want to make you fight him, especially since he risked his own life for yours. It would be causing a civil war between your people.”

“I-I guess you’re right,” she admitted, rubbing the back of her neck. “It was just an idea.”

“I’ve got an idea,” Snotlout joined in. “How about we quit sitting around talking and go get some actual work done?” He stood, made for the door.

“No, wait.” Hiccup held out a hand to halt him. “I’m almost finished. Just hang on a bit.”

“Fine.” Snotlout turned to face him, tapping his foot impatiently. Hiccup couldn’t blame his attitude however. He had been feeling antsy for the past hour or so.

“We need to set something in place just in case any of us are captured,” Hiccup informed them. “And it can’t be mindlessly chasing after the captors. That could get someone killed.”

“What, so we just leave whoever it is in captivity?” Astrid sounded taken aback. She rested a hand on her hip.

“Not forever, no. But the first thing we do is abandon the Edge, go somewhere they would never expect, like Outcast Island or something. Then we plan. We can’t underestimate Dagur or the Dragon Hunters. We need to think carefully about every situation, and we need to keep the dragons safe. Viggo wants dragons, so he won’t stay away forever.”

“Hiccup, is it really a good idea that we all know the plan?” Fishlegs asked. “I mean, if any of us were to talk-”

“Then lie,” Hiccup interrupted. “Think up a lie so good that they wouldn’t question it, and keep them busy for a while.”

Tuffnut snorted. “You really think Fishface over here would hold up under questioning?”

“I don’t,” Hiccup responded. “I don’t think any of us would if they really wanted something. That’s why, at the first sign of danger, we relocate, because we might have no choice but to talk. But, if any of us are captured, and if any of us do talk, make it a lie Loki would be proud of.”

“I like the sound of that,” Ruffnut commented.

“Does everyone understand?” Hiccup looked solemnly and seriously at each and every person in the room. He received little nods from each of them in turn.

“Alright. Let’s get to it.”


	5. Chapter 4

Hiccup was relieved to be out in the open again, and it was very clear Toothless was too. The dragon had been quivering with excitement when he mounted him, and now he was putting on all the speed he could.

The sky was mostly clear save for a few lingering clouds, the sea still roiling, but beginning to calm. The air was fresh and crisp; Hiccup welcomed the cold that stung his face.

He was trying to plan out exactly what he was going to say to his dad. He wasn't even sure how to begin.

“Hi, dad. I started a war with Dragon Hunters,” didn't really have a nice ring to it, nor did, “I lost the Dragon Eye to this guy named Viggo Grimborn and he's going to kill all our dragons. What have you been up to?”

Hiccup sighed in frustration. “What do I tell him, bud?”

Toothless made a sound that was akin to, “Beats me.”

“Uh, hi dad. Dagur started working for this guy named Ryker who's a Dragon Hunter, but the leader of the Dragon Hunters is actually Viggo. They got the Dragon Eye and Dagur deserted. I don't know where any of them are.”

Toothless made a disappointed barking sound.

“Yeah, I know. That doesn't work. Maybe if I just didn't ramble,” Hiccup said. He just couldn't help it. His thoughts were a jumble of spinning worries and fears that made little sense, and he felt on edge, tingling with anxiety and worry. There was another thing added to that too: self-doubt. It bogged him down and made him want to curl up into a ball and never move again. How could he beat this guy? How could he be a good leader if he was constantly putting others in danger and losing? He was afraid that one of his friends would die because of him.

They flew silently for a time, Hiccup lost in thought and not really paying attention. Both he and Toothless knew the flight from Dragon’s Edge to Berk well enough to take it easy. 

His troubled, spinning thoughts were interrupted by a low growl from Toothless. He looked around the sky warily before snapping his eyes down towards the ocean, the most probable source of the danger.

_I'm such an idiot!_

Eyes going wide, Hiccup yanked Toothless up towards the gray clouds, the dragon beating his wings hard. There were shouts from below, and arrows raced up towards them, but fell short and arced back down into the churning waters.

He steadied Toothless once they were in the cloud cover, looking around with baited breath. The Night Fury swiveled his head around in search of danger, teeth bared. There were ships down there, probably a dozen. He hadn't gotten a very good look at them before hiding, but one ship had a sail that was marked with the dark, unmistakable shape of a Skrill. Dagur.

And those were dragon root arrows, so he must have taken some of Viggo's men like Heather suspected.

He and Toothless lurched to the side as a weighted net shot up from the clouds, nearly grazing them. It wasn't long after that another followed, entering the cloud cover in a different spot. They were firing at random in hopes that they would hit something.

_Useless since they can't see us._

“Whoa!” Hiccup pulled Toothless back as a net billowed up in front of them.

_But, I can't see them either._

He would flee, but he had no sense of direction in the cloud. Would he be flying straight towards them?

“Okay, bud, we have to see.”

They dodged another net before diving back out of the cloud cover. They almost flew straight into another net, but Toothless opened his wings and pulled up fast. 

Hiccup wasn't quite sure what to do. There were so many ships and just one of him. There wasn't exactly anywhere to run to, seeing as they were in the middle of the ocean and Dagur knew the location of both Berk and the Edge. They would just follow him.

_I have to fight, don't I?_

“Let's take out those net shooters, bud!” Hiccup patted Toothless reassuringly on the side of his head before swooping in close to the ships, avoiding two more nets and a volley of dragon root arrows.

The nearest ship rocked as Toothless battered it with a plasma blast, sending men flying over the side and into the cold, frothing water. Hiccup had Toothless circle fast around the fleet, and he shot off another bright purple blast.

Determination set in when he caught sight of Dagur on the deck of the flagship. He could hear him laughing in the clear, cold air.

“You're outnumbered, Hiccup!” His voice was a shrieking taunt.

Hiccup nearly had Toothless shoot at the flagship out of spite, but thought better of it. It didn't have any net shooters, which was what they had to focus their concentration on.

He ducked right as an arrow went zipping over his head. Dagur gave an angered shriek about not hurting him.

There were too many things going on at once: too many arrows, too many nets. He couldn't possibly fight them.

“Get us out of here, Toothless!” Hiccup cried, flattening himself against the saddle. The dragon made a sort of panicked sound and made for the sky.

That was, until the weighted ball of a net clipped the prosthetic tail fin. Toothless screeched, abruptly dropping. Hiccup held on for dear life as they fell into a chaotic spin. He worked his prosthetic in the stirrup, trying to get the tail to work, but the usual motions didn't feel right; part of it had been disconnected.

They landed with a big thud on the deck of a ship, and Hiccup was thrown out of the saddle. He skidded and rolled, his shoulders taking the brunt of the impact, though his face did smack into the wooden boards at one point.

He landed on his side, the air knocked out of him, stunned from the fall. He didn't let himself stay down though. He got to his feet, ignoring the sharp pains in his body, and drew the sword that he kept sheathed on his back.

Hiccup was being approached by a number of heavily armored men. A worried glance at Toothless showed that the dragon had advancing foes too. He was growling at them wildly, lashing his tail, the prosthetic waving uselessly, halfway unattached.

With a wild cry, Hiccup raised his sword and leaped forward. The men ran at him, but he darted between them, for once being grateful for his thin body and the agility that it granted him. 

Toothless shot one of the approaching soldiers with a plasma blast, and he went flying backwards, hitting the side of the ship, bones snapping. Hiccup bashed his sword hard into another one. There were no weaknesses in the armor from the back, but a hard enough hit could still knock someone off their feet. 

The soldier he’d attacked stumbled away from him, but recovered quickly, charging forwards and swinging a huge, two-handed sword. Hiccup’s sword came up to deflect it, but the power behind the blow nearly drove him to his knees. Thinking fast, he swung up his metal leg and kicked the man hard in the knee, then darted out of the way as he cursed and fell forward. Toothless let off another blast and there were screams.

Panting, Hiccup ran over to check on his tail. He had to get it back on if they were going to get out of there.

“Hang in there, bud. I got this.” He skidded on his knees in front of the tail, dropping his sword to deal with the straps. He hadn't been there for long before more soldiers came charging at him and Toothless.

Releasing the straps, Hiccup dove for his sword, then rolled away from the swing of an axe.

“Don't kill him!” Dagur shouted hysterically from the flagship. “Another move like that and I'm gonna rip your skin off!”

Dagur's angered order didn't make Hiccup’s fight any easier. He still dodged and skidded around blows, though they were no longer fatal. They would hurt like Hel though.

Hiccup blocked a sword that swung down at him, looked back worriedly at Toothless. The dragon was holding his own, but they were both completely outnumbered.

_Dagur wants me, not him. I can't put Toothless in danger because of that._

Making a decision, Hiccup slid his sword across the one he was holding back and sliced at the man’s hand. He gave a cry and lost his grip, leaving Hiccup to run to Toothless.

“You have to go, Toothless!” he urged. He was slashing hurriedly at the tail, cutting crude letters into the leather. “Go! Swim!” Finished with the message, he jabbed the sword out towards the sea.

The dragon made a pained and confused sound, looking at him with questioning, doubtful eyes.

“Go! He wants me, not you!” Hiccup pressed his body against him, tried shoving him. “Get out of here! I’ll be fine!”

Toothless shook his head and made a fierce sound in his throat. Of course this was difficult. His friend was fiercely loyal towards him.

Hands grabbed at Hiccup from behind and he dropped his sword.

“Toothless, go!” he shouted desperately. “They’ll kill you! Please!”

Toothless’ eyes were big and concerned, and Hiccup was afraid that he wouldn't listen, but then he turned and jumped fluidly over the side of the ship, landing with a splash that sprayed water onto the deck. 

Hiccup kicked and flailed, trying to be free of his assailant. He moved to elbow him in the stomach, but was jarred by coming in contact with armor. Men raced over to the side of the ship with bows to stop Toothless from escaping.

“Forget the dragon!” Dagur ordered from the flagship. “We’ve got what I want!”

Hiccup gave up his fight, gasping for breath, stomach sinking as dread set in. Dagur had gotten him.

 _Thank the gods Toothless will get away though._ The sounds of his friend’s desperate swimming were quickly fading.

“Tie him up and send him my way, boys!” Dagur shouted from his ship. “He's not getting away this time!”

Hiccup was compliant as ropes were tied around his abdomen with his arms secured behind him. Fighting was useless now that he had no means of escape. 

The ship he was on pulled up close to Dagur’s. The man had a bright, deranged grin on his face. It made Hiccup’s muscles tense and anxiety spark in his stomach. He looked down at the water below, having a fleeting thought of drowning himself.

“Don't worry, Hiccup! I won't let you fall in the water!” Dagur called, misinterpreting the look. He held out his arms and beckoned to his men. “Toss him!”

Hiccup was thrown across the few feet of space between the two ships. He landed hard in Dagur's arms, nose hitting his breastplate. He nearly fell, but the man took ahold of his shoulders and steadied him.

“There you go, Hiccup. Safe and sound.” 

The dragon rider cringed as Dagur threw an arm over his shoulder and led him onto the deck. He made him sit beside the mast, and the boats began moving again.

Hiccup had a dour expression on his face. These last few days had arguably been the worst of his life. He had been handed defeat after defeat, and now here he was, the prisoner of a murderously insane man who had a twisted fixation on him. He was wondering where all his luck had gone.

Though, seeing that there was no way of getting free at the moment, he decided to try and get some information. Dagur would answer him. He loved talking.

He stood with his back facing him and his hands folded behind him, eyes looking ahead for their destination. That might be a good thing to find out.

“Where are we going?” Hiccup asked plainly. There was no point in hiding his curiosity.

“My little base of operations,” Dagur answered, still not looking at him. “I couldn't possibly move fast enough with thousands trailing behind me.”

Hiccup’s spirits sank even lower. He doubted that Dagur was bluffing. He had figured that he had some sort of reserve of soldiers and ships somewhere: no matter how many he and the other dragon riders got rid of, he always came back with more. Escape would be much harder with such a mass of enemies.

“Do you think Viggo's mad you ditched him and took some of his boats?” Hiccup inquired. It was obvious that he had split from him. If he hadn't, Ryker would probably be on this ship too, and Dagur wouldn't be flying his own flag.

“Doesn't matter. Looks like he's going to leave me alone for the time being.” Dagur didn't sound the least bit concerned. Rather, he just seemed contented, probably because he had him.

Trying to ignore that thought, Hiccup pressed on. “Do you know what Viggo's up to?”

“Viggo, Viggo, Viggo!” Dagur cried in irritation before whirling around to face him, green eyes set in a glare. He leaned down and brought his face close, hooked nose nearly touching his own, and Hiccup uncomfortably shifted away. “I don't care about Viggo anymore! He doesn't give the orders! I do!” He pressed a hand to his chest for emphasis. “And why do you even care right now? _I'm_ the one who has you! Not Viggo! _Me!_ ”

Hiccup didn't know how to react to this sudden flare of rage, didn't know whether or not Dagur wanted him to say something. He just pressed his back against the mast and stared, a little shocked, but also frightened. What was he going to do to him?

But then he seemed to suddenly calm. He straightened, face relaxing from the savage expression it had been twisted into. 

“Never mind Viggo.” His voice was much more even. Hiccup had seen these lightning-quick mood changes in Dagur before, but it never failed to unnerve him. “He shouldn't be what you're worrying about right now.”

 _And I'm only worrying about him ‘cause I don't want to think about you._ At the moment, Viggo - distant and not coming after any of them for the time being - seemed like the lesser of two evils. 

“Oh, right,” Hiccup responded, tone innocent and oblivious. “Silly me. Should be worrying about the food. Heard you don't have a great cook on board.”

Dagur stood silently for a while, seemingly unsure of how to react. Hiccup was certain that he was going to be slapped. 

But that's not what happened. Dagur suddenly shrieked with laughter, bending and clapping Hiccup much too roughly on the shoulder.

“Oh gods, I forget how funny you are sometimes!”

Hiccup gave a halfhearted chuckle to go along with it. “Yeah, I try my best.” The unpredictability of the Berserker chief’s moods was concerning. It made it difficult to judge how he should act around him to best avoid harm. Well, more harm. Dagur was going to hurt him anyway. That's just how he was.

“You know what, Hiccup? I'm really gonna enjoy our time together,” Dagur said cheerily.

Hiccup had a sinking feeling that he wouldn't.


	6. Chapter 5

Astrid was leading Heather on a flight around the island. They were looking for the perfect place to build some sort of wall. She wished it were possible to just build one around the whole island and make it impossible to get on or off unless by dragon, but they didn’t have the time, or the manpower. Besides, she knew that some of the fighting would have to be at sea, though they did have dragons. It wasn’t like they had an entire army of them.

Hiccup had been gone for an entire day already, and she had to admit that the Edge felt strange without him, especially with nerves making everyone act a little off. Fishlegs was holed up in his hut trying to write down everything he remembered from the Dragon Eye, and Snotlout and the twins were hardly talking. There was a sense of anxiety and dread over everything, like the island was holding its breath.

Heather pulled up close on Windshear, being careful to make sure that their dragons didn’t accidentally collide wings.

“So, Astrid, I was thinking that that cove we passed a little while ago would be a good place for a wall,” Heather suggested. “The ground there seems easily surpassable, and it could be used as a way to sneak onto the island.”

“Good idea! We can borrow Meatlug from Fishlegs and have her block it off.” 

“How is Fishlegs doing with the Dragon Eye information anyway?” Heather asked, gliding downwards a little. 

Astrid shrugged. “I have no clue. He’s only come out of his hut once or twice since Hiccup left for Berk.” The statement set a weird, sinking feeling in her stomach. Dread.

“He’ll be fine, Astrid,” Heather assured her. Damn, the woman could read her like an open book that was written with huge lettering.

“I-I know.” Astrid looked down towards Heather. The vision in her right eye was a tad blurry, but at least it wasn't swollen shut anymore. “I just worry.”

“Well, I’m sure he wouldn’t run into Viggo on the way to Berk.”

Astrid scanned the land under her, had Stormfly swoop down to glide along the coastline, Heather following her lead. Most of it was made of cliffs, but there were unprotected beaches here and there that could be used as a way in. One of the reasons she had taken Heather with her was so she could point out anything Astrid might miss with her injury.

“That’s not who I’m worried about.”

She didn’t even have to look at Heather to know that she was frowning. Astrid was wondering if she had insulted her, and tried quickly to fix it.

“I mean, I know he’s your brother and all, but he’s done some pretty bad things, and I don’t think one good thing is going to change that path. He’s got so many mental illnesses he makes _Tuffnut_ seem sane!”

Heather didn’t say anything, and Astrid was wondering how she had thought that would fix it. She probably only managed to make her friend feel worse.

“That’s not - I mean - Well-” She was flustered, something that didn’t happen very often.

“Astrid, it’s alright.” Heather’s voice actually held a little bit of humor in it.

 _Great, probably thinks it’s cute when I’m awkward._ Heather didn’t try very hard to hide how she felt about Astrid, and Astrid was guilty to admit that she felt the same. How could she love two people at once, two very different people?

“Yeah, I know he’s a bad guy,” Heather continued. “He’s strange and he has crazy mood swings, but Hiccup has known him most of his life, right?”

“Yeah…” Astrid didn’t quite see what she was getting at.

“So he probably knows how to handle himself around him,” Heather explained. “If it were ever to come to that.”

“Okay, yeah, you’re right,” Astrid admitted. She brought her focus back to surveying the island. The conversation had distracted her from what she should be doing.

“Hey, what’s that down there?”

Astrid looked over to see Heather hovering in place, pointing at something sleek and dark on a nearby beach. It looked like some sort of strange rock. She was going to dismiss it, but it would be better to check it out anyway.

Stormfly gave a squawk as she raced down towards the object, the wind blowing back Astrid’s braid and threatening to undo it. Heather was a second behind her.

The shape began to take form as she flew closer. She saw a leg, claws, the outline of a wing. Something bad sparked in her stomach and Stormfly had barely landed when she leaped from her back and darted over to the dragon laying in the sand.

“Oh my gods, _Toothless!_ ” She skidded to her knees beside the Night Fury, spraying wet sand into the air. The dragon lay on his side, eyes closed, body heaving with labored breaths.

Heather appeared beside her and gave an audible gasp. “What could have happened to him?”

Astrid rubbed a hand over his wet snout as she hurriedly examined him, stomach twisting, adrenaline flushing her veins. He looked terrible. His limbs were limp and it looked like he couldn’t move them even if he wanted to. His eyes and the niches between the scales that remained were crusted with salt. His right shoulder, the one facing the sky, seemed out of place. And if it was possible for a solid black dragon to look pale and washed out, he did. Both the saddle, and the prosthetic tailfin that Hiccup had poured his heart and soul into, were gone. 

_Hiccup!_

Astrid rose in a panic, looking around wildly, pacing the small length of beach.

“Hiccup! Hiccup!” Her eyes went to the water. The seemingly endless expanse of blue sparkled in the afternoon sun, and waves lapped lazily at the shore. Where was he? “ _Hiccup!_ ”

“Astrid, he’s not here,” Heather called to her.

She knew it had been a stupid hope, but she couldn’t help it. She would have given anything to see Hiccup right then.

Astrid hurried back over to Toothless. “Heather, fly back. Bring Snotlout and Hookfang to carry him, and get Fishlegs over here. He knows the most about dragons, and we have to get him to the stables and take care of him.”

Heather gave a quick nod and leaped onto Windshear’s long neck. In a few seconds, they were soaring up into the sky.

Astrid sat cross-legged beside Toothless, lifted his head and rested it on her lap. She stroked along his chin.

“Hey, what happened, big guy?” she asked gently. She couldn't tell if he was conscious or not, but she knew he would feel better if she talked to him. She’d feel better for it to.

Toothless peeled his eyes half open - a difficult task due to the salt - and released a low, mournful wail in response. The sound broke Astrid's heart.

“It’ll be okay,” she soothed. At least, she tried. Her insides were feeling shaky and she felt on the verge of some sort of panic attack. This surprised her, as she often prided herself on having more control over her emotions than this.

_Except when it involves Hiccup._

“We’ll get you sorted out and nice and dry,” she went on. Her voice was choked; it felt like worry was closing her throat. 

Toothless closed his eyes again, weakly nuzzled his head into her, a distressed rumble rising from his chest.

“And we’ll find Hiccup,” she added. She stubbornly wiped a few stray tears from her face, right eye throbbing.

Toothless groaned at the mention of Hiccup, shifted his weight and weakly tried stretching out a wing. His tail swept at the sand, made wet from his soaking body.

“No, shh, you have to rest.” Astrid ran her hand over the side of his head, then around behind his ear. She didn't want him to panic over his rider and friend in his current state. It would do him no good.

With a curious and worried squawk, Stormfly stepped over, leaning towards Toothless, head tilted. She fluttered her wings and strutted over, settling herself protectively beside the Night Fury. She nuzzled her nose into his back and chirped.

Astrid knew it wasn’t long before Heather returned with Snotlout and Fishlegs, but, cradling Toothless’ head in her lap as he moaned, it felt like forever.

“What happened to ‘im?!” Fishlegs cried, running over. It was the fastest Astrid had ever seen him move before.

“I don’t know! He just washed up on the beach!”

Toothless made a rumbling noise as Fishlegs placed a gentle hand on his head and examined him. Snotlout had joined them, but Hookfang and Meatlug remained hesitantly behind.

“He’s exhausted,” Fishlegs stated. “Based on the salt and the missing scales, he must have been swimming for sometime over twelve hours.” He pointed to the oddly angled shoulder. “And it looks like that happened in a fall of some sort.”

“Heather and I can carry him back to the stables,” Snotlout volunteered. “Between the two dragons, it shouldn’t be that bad of a ride.”

“Wait, let me set his shoulder first.” Fishlegs gently placed his hands on the joint, and Astrid hugged his large head reassuringly. Toothless grumbled, but didn’t make any other protest.

“Sorry, Toothless,” Fishlegs apologized softly in advance. “I gotta do this.”

There was a series of clicks and Toothless whined, pressed his head into Astrid’s body and swept his tail across the sand in distress.

“That should heal in no time,” Fishlegs told Toothless. The cheeriness in his voice sounded fake.

“Fishlegs, what’s wrong?” Astrid was almost afraid to ask.

He turned to face her, anxiously poking his forefingers at each other. “He um…” His voice dropped in volume, almost to a whisper. “He might not make it.”

Astrid gasped, looked to the dragon in her lap, then back at Fishlegs.

“What?! How?!”

“He’s close to dying from exhaustion,” Fishlegs explained very quietly and nervously. “He must have been in the water for such a long time.”

“But…” Astrid didn’t finish, didn’t know what to say. The thought wrenched at her heart.

“No, not gonna happen,” Snotlout stated, stepping forward. “We’re gonna get him to the stables and pamper the Hel out of him.” He sounded determined, almost angry, probably reminded of the time the same had nearly happened to Hookfang.

“Alright, Hookfang and Windshear can carry him,” Fishlegs agreed. “The first thing we should do when we get there is get him lots of food, fresh water, and pillows. He would do with a cleaning, but he needs to rest.”

Snotlout nodded, but then looked around questioningly. “Is no one going to ask the obvious question? If Toothless is here, then where’s Hiccup?”

 

A whole twenty four hours with Dagur was the worst, and Hiccup had already grown sick of him by the first one. When night fell he had been untied and shoved into a small room below deck that only contained a chamber pot and a pallet for sleeping. The door was left unlocked, as there was no possible way for him to escape in the middle of the ocean, but he still remained in the room. He didn't want any mistreatment from Dagur if he was found wandering about.

It felt okay to go up on deck once the morning arrived however. None of the crew or soldiers bothered him, which he was thankful for, as he hadn't slept at all during the night and was feeling irritated. Though, Dagur took it upon himself to be attached to his side, and Hiccup was just wishing that he would suddenly get sick and lose his voice. He had tried making him eat too, but he had defiantly refused. He felt too sick with nerves to eat.

Currently, Hiccup was leaning over the side of the ship and intently watching the water, studying the colors and the way it moved and sloshed against the ship. He wondered how cold it was, if it was enough to give him hypothermia and kill him. It was a fleeting thought though, barely lasting a second before leaving his mind. Then he began wondering if his friends had gotten the message on Toothless’ tail.

Dagur had placed himself beside him, and he had an arm wrapped around his shoulders. Hiccup tried to pretend it wasn't there, very uncomfortable with the touching and the proximity. 

“Do you ever miss traveling by boat, Hiccup?” Dagur asked curiously. “Or are you glued to the back of that dragon?”

“Dragons are faster,” Hiccup responded quietly, halfheartedly. He didn't care about Dagur's thoughts. He just wanted him to stop touching him and leave him alone. He was thankful that he hadn't crossed any more boundaries. Yet. He knew he would at some point, and that terrified him, made him want to be sick.

“But we're Vikings! We're _made_ for the sea!”

“Uh-huh,” Hiccup mumbled, shoulders hunching. He could feel Dagur's gaze on him, so he just stared hard at the water.

“Something wrong?” he asked. Hiccup couldn't tell whether the question was oblivious or teasing. “You're not as perky as usual.”

“Yeah, that tends to happen when you get kidnapped by a lunatic, and an annoying one at that.”

“Moody!” Dagur commented. 

“No, pissed off,” Hiccup corrected. He straightened and shoved Dagur's arm away. “Can't you shut up for five seconds?!”

One look at Dagur's face and he knew he had gone too far. His lips were curled in a sneer and his eyes were narrowed. That was all the warning he got before he was slapped so hard in the face that he fell to the deck. Hiccup gave a cry and rolled onto his back, clutching his burning cheek with one hand.

“You know, Hiccup, I'm being pretty damn nice to you!” Dagur snapped. “I untied you and leave you to walk around, and I even let your precious dragon go! And you repay me by being a little fucking brat!” 

He was suddenly hauled upwards, Dagur's fingers curling into his tunic.

“And you know-”

Hiccup had the brilliantly stupid idea to spit in his face. Dagur stopped and closed his eyes, clutched his tunic harder. His face contorted in anger, and it looked like he was mentally counting to ten to avoid throwing him overboard. Hiccup thought that he might actually prefer that.

Instead, Dagur just threw him hard onto the deck, most likely bruising his tailbone.

“Lock him in his room!” he yelled to no one in particular. “And make sure he eats or I’m coming in there and force-feeding him!”

Two soldiers instantly came over and grabbed Hiccup by the arms, standing him up. They seemed ready to drag him away, but he placed his feet under him and walked. No point in fighting. 

He looked back at Dagur as he was led away. The man was fuming, turned away from him, hands curled into fists and muscles bulging. He seemed on the verge of an explosion, which made Hiccup decide that he would much rather eat on his own than have him shove it down his throat. He held back the defiance and stubbornness that ran through his veins. He would be compliant. For now.

 

Astrid found the edge of one fingernail in her mouth as she watched Toothless. She felt awful: nervous and worried and a little panicky. She felt like she should be doing something. She was torn between going out and searching for Hiccup and staying and watching over his dragon. She would never forgive herself if either one of them-

A pain shot through her finger as she bit too close to the nub. She yanked her finger away from mouth and firmly crossed her arms. She had the urge to pace, but she remained standing in one spot. She knew the movement would agitate Toothless, who was tiredly finishing off what had been a large pile of fish in front of him. He had been laid across several pillows and his front right leg was held in a sling that Fishlegs had made for him, to make sure he didn't move it too much and re-injure himself. He was absolutely miserable, still sticky and salty from the seawater that had not been washed away. A cleaning would be too much for him at the moment though.

She was alone with him. Heather had promised her she would oversee the defenses and make sure Snotlout and the twins helped, and Fishlegs was composing a letter to send to Stoick by Terrible Terror. They had to let him know what was going on. Well, the little they knew at least. They had no idea what had happened to Hiccup or where he was.

_Or if he's even still alive._

Astrid quickly drove the terrible thought out of her head and made herself sit down beside Toothless. Though she was worried to death about Hiccup, she was thinking it would be more beneficial for her to stay here and take care of Toothless. It wasn't like she had any clue where to start looking. She would just be flying aimlessly over empty ocean.

The Night Fury slurped down the last of his meal and rested his large head on the pillows. Astrid stroked his snout, trying to reassure the both of them. Fishlegs had said the next twelve to sixteen hours were critical. Though the dragon was resting, the exhaustion could still kill him unless he received the proper treatment. He needed to drink a full bucket of water every hour and have a fish at least every two in order to give his body the energy it needed to recover. After that, he would be in the clear.

Astrid had now resigned herself to a sleepless night with the dragon. She would make sure he lived.

“How's he doing?”

The warrior was startled from her thoughts and looked up to see Heather standing nearby. 

She looked down at Toothless, realized he had fallen asleep. She hadn't been aware of time passing. It had only been a few minutes since she sat down with him though.

“Sleeping,” Astrid responded. “He ate everything, but I have to wake him up later to give him some water.”

Heather gave a little nod, leaned against the doorframe. She looked grim.

“What do you think happened to him?”

 _Oh gods, Hiccup._ Every mention or thought of him hurt.

“Gods, I wish I knew,” Astrid answered rather hopelessly. “Nothing I’ve come up with really makes sense. If he were captured, how could Toothless be free? People are after this dragon as much as they're after him. But it also couldn't possibly be some flying accident that left him who knows where. He's too good at it for that to happen. I'm just so confused.”

“We’ll find him, Astrid,” Heather assured her. “You said Stoick flies a dragon that has incredible tracking skills, right? He can track by scent?”

Astrid nodded, absentmindedly rubbing her hand along Toothless’ head. His back rose and fell with easy, relaxed breathing. That was a good sign.

“What if he’s…” Astrid trailed off, a lump rising in her throat. She couldn't bring herself to say it.

“Astrid, Hiccup’s not dead.” Heather came and crouched in front of her, placed a hand on her shoulder. “That man of yours can survive anything.”

Astrid met Heather’s concerned and endearing green gaze. She stubbornly wiped away a few tears and weakly nodded.

“Yeah, yeah, you're right. I just wish we had more information. I hate not knowing.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Heather told her. “And wherever he is, we’ll find him and save him, if he hasn't already saved himself.”

For some reason, Astrid had a terrible feeling that, whatever had happened to him, it wouldn't be quite that simple.


	7. Chapter 6

“What happened to my son?”

Astrid tried not to shrink back at Stoick’s ferocity, at the anger and desperation in his voice.

“Uh, chief, we don’t actually know,” Fishlegs answered, scraping his foot against the wooden boards of the clubhouse. “He was flying to Berk to get your help, but then we found Toothless washed up on the beach the day after he left. He swam here. Nearly died from exhaustion. He’ll be okay though.”

“And there was no clue as to what happened?” Stoick pressed. He suddenly seemed tired, overwhelmed. He sat heavily on one of the benches around the stove.

“No,” Snotlout responded. The entire gang had been there to greet Stoick, except for Heather. She had taken off on a flight around the island, obviously anxious about the prospect of more people. She’d never really been good at socializing. “Not a single thing, and the tail and saddle weren’t on him.”

“Well, I guess there’s only one way to find out,” Stoick said, once again determined. Astrid wondered if he would still have the same feeling if he knew about Viggo and the Dragon Hunters. They had yet to fill him in on that part, had explained the destruction of the island as being the storm rather than a violent search of everything. They all knew that Hiccup would come first, and they didn’t want to completely overwhelm him with the situation. Yet. “Skullcrusher can track him by scent.” He stood, floor creaking a little under his massive weight. “Astrid, meet me at the stables with something of his we can use, alright?” Then, he strode out of the building. 

Everyone was quiet until they were sure he was out of earshot. They had their own things to discuss.

“Quick question,” Ruffnut began, raising her hand to get everyone’s attention. “When are we going to tell him about the Dragon Hunters?”

“After we find Hiccup,” Astrid answered. She was feeling hopeful now that they had a tracking dragon to help them. “I’ll go with Stoick, but you guys have to stay here and keep working on defenses. And Fishlegs, you keep working on what you remember from the Dragon Eye. We _need_ that information, ’cause Viggo wouldn’t have taken it unless he did have some way to use it without the Snow Wraith key.”

“Got it,” Tuffnut affirmed. He was standing by Snotlout. The two seemed almost inseparable now. “Get Hiccup, then tell him. What do we do after?”

“We stick to the original plan.” Astrid threw those words over her shoulder, leaving the clubhouse. She would go to Hiccup’s hut to get a piece of his clothing, then go meet Stoick and Skullcrusher at the stables. She felt confident that they would find him now. That dragon could find anything.

 

Stoick sat on a hovering Skullcrusher, one of Hiccup’s tunics clutched tightly in his hand, his eyes searching the water with the same crushing sense of hopelessness that Astrid felt. The dragon had taken them to the middle of the ocean with absolutely no land in sight. Egging him to continue just made him give a frustrated sound and point his nose at the calm waves below them. Apparently this was where the scent had ended.

“No,” Astrid whispered. Then she cleared her throat, said it again, louder. Stoick tore his sad eyes from the sea to look at her.

“I refuse to believe that he drowned or something,” Astrid said. “He was on Toothless, and the storm had passed, so that can’t be what happened.”

“Astrid-”

“And his shoulder was dislocated,” Astrid went on, hopelessness now being overridden by a sense of determination. Hiccup was still out there somewhere, alive and in need of help. “Fishlegs said it was from a hard landing, a fall. Do you see any rocks out here that could have done that?”

“Then why does his scent end here?” Stoick asked, looking at the tunic in his hand, then back at the water. “We’d be able to follow him if he was captured.”

Astrid worked at her bottom lip with her teeth, thinking, clutching tight to Stormfly’s saddle. He was right, but none of this added up. It didn’t make sense.

“I don’t get it,” she admitted.

“Neither do I, lass. Neither do I.” He looked at Astrid again. “Hold up. Didn’t Fishlegs say Hiccup was flying to Berk to get my help? What’s going on?”

_And I guess I have to explain it now._

“It’s… It’s a long story,” Astrid said after some time in silence. “I’ll tell you on the way back.”

 

The sun had been down for about an hour by the time they landed, and the Edge was lit with torches and braziers. They found Heather in the stables, sitting with a now-clean Toothless and keeping him company. They both perked up when they entered, Heather standing, but Astrid just shook her head. The excursion felt like a waste. They hadn’t found Hiccup or any clues to his whereabouts or state of being.

“I’m glad you’re alright, lass,” Stoick said gently, placing a hand on Heather’s armored shoulder. “Astrid told me everything. That was very brave of you, infiltrating the Dragon Hunters like that.”

“Thank you, sir.” Her face flushed a little at the acknowledgement.

“And in the morning I’m off to Berk,” he informed both of them, taking his hand from Heather’s shoulder. “I’ll return with the auxiliary riders and a fleet of ships will be a day behind.”

“Wait, we’re not abandoning Dragon’s Edge?” Heather questioned. “Hiccup said that if any of us were captured-”

“And we’re not really sure that he is,” Stoick cut her off. There was a fight in his words. He wanted to have his son back and safe as much as the rest of him. “I’m not going to have you abandon this island until we’ve got solid evidence of that. It’s a good location, can easily be made defensible.”

Astrid saw his point in this, though something about the whole situation seemed off. But she would do as her chief told her to do and continue fortifying the island. This was a war now.

Stoick’s gaze landed on Toothless, who was watching them all dismally, ears flattened. “I’ll sleep here tonight.” He didn’t continue, didn’t have to explain that at the moment, Toothless was the closest thing he had to his son. “You two run off and tell the others that we didn’t find him.”

Astrid’s legs felt heavy as she left the stables with Heather at her side. There was just too much going on, and the whole thing with Hiccup didn’t make any sense.

“I can’t believe you didn’t find him,” Heather said quietly. “I thought Skullcrusher could track anything.”

“And he can,” Astrid responded. “He led us to the middle of the ocean and then refused to go any further.”

“Do you think he… drowned?” The question was hesitant, worried.

“No, he couldn’t have. It doesn’t add up. Somehow, we have to find out exactly what happened.”

 

A sack smelling terribly of fish was yanked over Hiccup’s head and his hands tied behind his back before he was taken off the ship. He had gotten a glimpse of where they had landed - a large, forested land mass that he couldn’t see the end of, glowing orange with hundreds of campfires - before his senses were disoriented and cut off. He assumed that such a strong-smelling sack was being used so that he couldn’t get some semblance of direction from smell. Though it was making it so that he had no idea where he was, he had to admit that it was quite clever.

A now-familiar hand patted him on the shoulder once they were on the docks. He cringed.

“I really wish I could stay and get you all settled in,” Dagur began, “but I have some business to take care of.”

 _Good. Don't want to see what Dagur's definition of settling me in is._ He was pretty sure he knew what it was and that was certainly not something he ever wanted to face.

“I’ll be gone for a week or so,” Dagur went on. The air in his voice made it sound like he was almost talking to himself. “It’ll be nice knowing you're here waiting for me.”

Hiccup didn't know what to say to this, but he apparently didn't have to respond, Dagur brushing past him to go confer with some of his men. He heard something about heads being put on pikes if anyone harmed him. That was good news at least. Obviously Dagur was the only one allowed to abuse him.

Hiccup was pulled out of his thoughts as a large arm went around his waist and he was suddenly lifted from the wooden boards of the dock. He gave a startled yelp and kicked his legs, but was slung over a shoulder despite his efforts.

“Hey! Behave!” Dagur's command was accompanied by a stinging smack to his rear. Hiccup jolted, shocked that he had been touched there. However, shock was soon replaced with humiliation. He was actually glad for the sack covering his face, which was rapidly going red.

There were laughs around him. The man holding him laughed. Dagur laughed. This made him angry, but he made himself stop moving. Anger and fighting wouldn't get him anywhere at the moment.

“Ha ha, _very_ funny,” Hiccup said sarcastically, voice muffled by the sack. Speaking let the smell into his mouth and he tried hard not to gag. He continued speaking anyway. “Have a nice trip, Dagur. Don’t let the sea monsters get you.”

_I pray to Thor that his ship is attacked by Scauldrons._

Dagur chuckled, patted him on the back. Hiccup flinched, almost began to fight again, but then went still.

“Oh Hiccup, they know better than to go near me.” He sounded amused that Hiccup would think otherwise. “See ya in a week!”

He was relieved at the sound of Dagur moving off. He would be free of him for a few days, even if that freedom just meant that he was locked up somewhere. He was very glad that no one had taken his prosthetic. He would still have a chance at escape.

Hiccup was jostled uncomfortably as he was taken through the camp, obviously to his place of imprisonment. It never ceased to bother him that it seemed anyone could just pick him up and carry him around like he weighed nothing. At least he wasn’t so short anymore. That had been worse.

His prison wasn’t grand, as far as prisons went. It was basically just a large hole that had been dug into the side of a hill, the entrance blocked by a spiked iron gate that had a grate at the bottom to slide food through. He had been untied and had the sack finally pulled from his head before he was thrown in there very much the same way one would discard a broken weapon or anything else that was useless. 

Then he was left alone. No guard was stationed outside, probably because he was situated inside the camp somewhere, and soldiers were no doubt set to patrol the camp to keep a tight security, not that anyone would want to sneak in here anyway. They’d take a look at the massive numbers and run for it.

_Which is exactly what I wish I could do._

Hiccup sullenly pulled his knees up to his chest and looked around. His eyes were slowly beginning to adjust to the darkness, but he still couldn’t make out much. Perhaps he would have to survey for some way of escape in the morning. There was no way he was just going to accept his capture without trying to get out of it first, even if he ended up having to pay for it.

 

Astrid lay still in her bed, fighting the urge to roll over. Again. She had turned in late after doing some work on defenses and then talking with Heather. Her friend was laying on a sleeping roll on the floor of her hut.

Astrid made a sound that was half a sigh and half a growl, rolling over quite forcefully onto her back.

“Heather? You awake?” 

“Sort of…” Came the groggy reply from the floor.

“I can’t sleep,” Astrid informed her. Though she was tired, anxiety and worry were keeping her from rest, and so was the urge to do something, anything, to find out what had happened to Hiccup and get him back.

Heather released a discontented grumble, then a small yawn, and Astrid could just make out her shape in the darkness, now sitting up. “I get it. You need anything?” Her speech was still heavy and groggy.

“No, it’s just, I…” Astrid trailed off, and a bit of a blush crept into her cheeks. It seemed like such a childish thing to ask but: “Will you get in the bed with me?” She couldn’t believe she’d actually said it. If anyone found out that she - Astrid the strong, brave, and bold warrior - needed someone to be with her to sleep, she’d be laughed out of society. It was hard admitting that she wasn’t tough all the time, that she still needed comfort and things like that. Heather was probably going to-

“Sure.”

That hadn’t been the answer Astrid was expecting, Shocked, she didn’t say anything as Heather climbed into the bed with her. She was warm and they were just barely touching, but her presence was already a comfort.

“Th-thank you,” Astrid finally managed to say. “Thought you were going to turn me down.”

“Why in Thor’s name would I turn down the chance to be in a bed with you?” The question was amused and slightly incredulous.

Astrid’s blush deepened; she was glad it was dark. Heather was well-practiced in making her stutter and go speechless.

“I mean, of course, you’re with Hiccup,” Heather went on, probably feeling as if she had to amend her statement. Now _she_ seemed a little uncomfortable. At least they were sharing it now. “It’s just…” She paused, then, seemingly at a loss for an explanation, finally ended it with, “Yeah.”

They’d never spoken about their feelings for each other before. Astrid wondered if Heather knew that the attraction was mutual. She didn’t know if she wanted to put it out in the open though. It was a confusing thing to love two people at once, especially when one of them wasn’t there and the other was the only source of comfort.

“It’s okay,” she said quietly, rolling onto her side, her back to her. She wished she could bring herself to say more, something like: _“I really like you,”_ or _“I feel the same,”_ but such an admittance would make her feel like she was betraying Hiccup.

They were silent for a minute or two, and Astrid didn’t know whether Heather had fallen asleep or not, but she spoke anyway.

“I really miss him.” It had been two whole days that Hiccup was gone. It seemed like a long time to be away from him since his presence had been a daily, nearly constant thing. “I hope he’s okay, wherever he is.”

She stiffened a little in surprise when she felt Heather’s arms encircle her waist, but she instantly relaxed, smiling a little. The other woman’s legs molded into hers and she rested her chin on her shoulder.

“He’s a tough guy,” Heather assured her. “We’ll probably show up to rescue him to find that he’s already done it himself.”

“Yeah.” Astrid shifted a little, getting comfortable in Heather’s embrace. “I just wish we knew what happened. He’s definitely alive. I’m sure of it. I think I would know if he was…” She trailed off, swallowed hard, couldn’t bring herself to say the awful word. Something in her would have felt it if he was dead though, just like something in him had known when she was practically drowning in the middle of the ocean and needed his help.

“If you think he’s alive, he definitely is,” Heather agreed. She rested her head in her hair, breathing an almost inaudible sigh. “Get some sleep, Astrid.”

Astrid smiled again. She felt warm and protected having Heather wrapped around her like this. Thanks to her, she felt like she could actually sleep. Somehow, she made it feel like everything was going to be okay.


	8. Chapter 7

Four days. A whole four days with no sign of Hiccup or what had happened to him. Stoick had already returned to Dragon’s Edge with the auxiliary riders and the longships were due to arrive in a few hours, led by Gobber. But what use would any of it be if they had no idea where he was?

Thanks to help from the dragons, a wall had quickly been constructed around the front of the island. It was tall enough to rise above the cliffs and protect all the buildings. Spaces had been left in it for archers and sentries, and a large one to allow Astrid’s ballista firing room. They would be well prepared for any attack, especially with all the extra numbers and dragons. The question was whether or not there would be an attack coming. None of the dragon riders had spotted anything suspicious happening around or near the island, even when they went out for longer flights to keep watch over a larger area. The only traffic appeared to be from Berk.

Heather was currently helping Astrid use foliage to conceal a catapult they had placed on one of the beaches. They didn’t speak much while working, but Heather felt a bond from the silence.

Fishlegs was nearby, sitting in the sand with Meatlug and scribbling away in a notebook. Quite often, he would stop and look out towards the sky in thought, and then go back to it. He was almost done transcribing all that he could remember from the Dragon Eye, but it was a difficult process.

“Heather, could you pass me that branch?” Astrid asked from her perch on the catapult’s beam, pointing to a large tree branch from the pile they had gathered. All that remained of her injury was a yellow bruise, and though Hiccup had hit her pretty hard, there didn't seem to be any permanent damage.

Heather did as she asked, holding it up until she was sure Astrid had a good hold of it. Astrid thanked her and began securing it to the beam with a length of rope. Heather went back to her own work at the base of it, trying not to get too distracted by how nice her friend’s thighs looked as they clung to the beam to keep her up. She had requested each night that Heather slept in the bed with her, but she really didn’t even have to ask anymore. Heather knew when she needed space and when she needed comfort, and at night she tended to need the latter, or else she wouldn’t get any sleep.

She understood of course. She was terribly worried about Hiccup too, dying to know what had happened to him and what state he was in. She constantly assured Astrid that he was fine, but she honestly couldn’t know if he was or not, and Astrid knew that she was just saying it to try to make her feel better.

There was suddenly a large splash and a protest from Fishlegs about Meatlug getting water on his notebook. Heather looked over, finding the Gronckle crashing rather enthusiastically into the water. Soon, she had to paddle, her short legs unable to keep her feet in contact with the sand. Fishlegs was standing, hands on his hips, notebook clutched in one hand.

“Meatlug, what are you doing?!”

“She’s probably just playing, Fishlegs!” Heather called to him.

He turned to face her, looking perplexed. “But Gronckles don’t like swimming.”

Astrid suddenly landed on the sand next to Heather, then jogged over to Fishlegs. “Wait, I saw something in the water from up there. She’s going to get it.”

Heather joined them, watching Fishlegs’ dragon go even farther out, trying to see what it was she was after. She could just make out a flash of red in the waves.

“What do you think it is?” Heather asked. Meatlug was almost to it, but the shape was still indiscernible as it bobbed up and down on the waves.

Fishlegs cupped his free hand around his mouth. “Come on, girl! Bring it back!”

Meatlug clamped her large jaws around the object and began paddling back to them. It was fluid, curving under the water and getting in the way of her swimming.

“Is that…?” Astrid didn’t finish. She didn’t have to. They could all make out what it was now.

Toothless’ tail.

Meatlug finally reached them and dragged the prosthetic tailfin up onto the sand. She dropped it in front of Fishlegs, tail wagging with pride and excitement.

“Good job, girl.” Fishlegs patted his wet dragon on the head and then knelt to take a look at the tail. It was ripped through the center like something had cut through it. Heather found it odd though, as it appeared to be a jagged, discontinuous cut rather than a slash, which is what any weapon would have done to it.

“That’s a weird cut,” Fishlegs commented thoughtfully.

“Hold on, I think I see something.” Astrid knelt in the sand too. She took ahold of the tail, flipped it over, and smoothed it out, revealing exactly five gashes across its surface. The longer Heather looked at them, the more the cuts looked deliberate, like shapes. Familiar shapes. Letters.

She gasped when the realization hit her, and Astrid figured it out the second after she did.

“Dagur,” she breathed, tail falling from her fingers. The name was uttered in a horrified way. Fishlegs’ eyes went big.

Heather didn’t know how to feel. She felt shock and dread, and maybe even horror, but it was all wrapped up in a big bundle of confusion. Dagur was her brother. She cared about him in a strange way, and he cared about her, but that didn’t mean she ignored what he was like. He was a depraved maniac who had often told her about his infatuation with Hiccup, thankfully sparing her the details in his fantasies. But if he had Hiccup and there was no one to hold him back…

Astrid abruptly stood, seeming to regain her energy. She grabbed the tail, soaked and covered in sand as it was, wrapped it up, and held it under her arm.

“So now we know what happened to him,” she said. There was a ferocity in her blue eyes when she looked between Heather and Fishlegs, a motivation that replaced the hopelessness that had been growing there over the past few days. “We have to tell Stoick.”

Astrid was already on her way over to where Stormfly and Windshear were dozing in the sand by the time Heather was able to unfreeze. She was stunned at this sudden information, at the almost indecipherable message that Hiccup had left them. She almost didn’t want to believe it, but the cuts in the leather were still clear enough to spell out ‘Dagur.’

Heather jogged to catch up, Stormfly giving a disgruntled squawk as Astrid jumped onto her back without giving her some sort of warning or waking her first. Heather stroked Windshear’s smooth, blade-like scales before mounting her. The razorwhip hummed a little in protest, but opened her eyes nonetheless and stood, yawning and stretching her wings. Stormfly hopped from one foot to the other and flapped her wings a little before taking off. Windshear bounded forwards and then leaped into the air, lifting up with a beat of her wings. Fishlegs was close behind on Meatlug.

It didn't take long to find Stoick. He was atop one of the watchtowers that had been constructed near the wall. The island was unusually quiet, but it would soon be filled with hundreds of people that they didn't exactly have the room for.

Astrid leaped from Stormfly before the dragon even hit the ground, landing hard but using the momentum to rush towards Stoick. He was startled by the three riders’ sudden presence.

“What is it, lass?” He could obviously sense her urgency.

There wasn't really room for Heather to land, as Windshear was pretty big, so she just hovered nearby, still trying to sort out her emotions. Fishlegs was hovering as well.

“This.” Astrid threw the tailfin down on the floor and flattened it out. “It's from Hiccup. Meatlug found it in the water.”

Stoick leaned down and peered at the cuts in the leather. A ferocity slowly took over his features, a fire lighting in his eyes. He clenched his fists so hard his knuckles cracked.

“That crazy bastard,” he seethed, straightening. “He took my son! I should have killed him all those years ago!” His fierce gaze landed on Heather. “We need to track him down. Do you have anything of his that Skullcrusher could get a scent from?”

“No,” Heather responded. She felt suddenly useless. She had no idea where her brother had gone and had nothing of his to use to find him. She had spent the most time with Dagur, but she had nothing to offer in ways of help.

Stoick looked like he was trying hard not to shout at her, though his anger was at the situation and not her. Then a sad look crept into his expression and he turned back to Astrid.

“Is there any chance that he's alive?”

“Dagur doesn't want him dead, though it might sometimes seem that way,” Astrid answered. She was looking stressed and uncomfortable and she hugged her arms. They didn't think Stoick knew about Dagur's true intentions with Hiccup.

 _Oh gods, how do we even tell him about that?_ Heather's stomach clenched thinking about it, and about what was most likely happening to her friend, and at the hands of her brother no less.

“Then what in Thor’s name does he want with him?!” Stoick threw up his hands in exasperation.

“We don't know.” Astrid couldn't look at him as she said it, instead gazed at the floor. She played it off more as being upset than lying though. “But whatever it is it can't be good.”

“Chief, we should probably tell the others,” Fishlegs piped in. “And I know we did a lot of work here but-”

“We're not abandoning the island!” Stoick cut in. “Hiccup’s orders about that were sound, but I just want to discuss it first, especially since I don’t think Dagur will invade now that he has him. We would have to be more worried if he was captured by this Viggo Grimborn, and we don’t know if Dagur is still working with him or not.”

“Well then, let's get to the clubhouse and call a meeting,” Heather suggested anxiously. That was the last thing she wanted to take part in - too many people, people that would be looking to her for information and answers - but it had to be done.

“Aye, good point,” Stoick said with a nod. “I’ll ride with Astrid.”

 

“So you’re telling me that your dragon who can track anyone can’t find Hiccup even though he’s captured?” Spitelout asked Stoick rather confrontationally. Heather hated the man. Whereas Snotlout sometimes made her feel awkward and uneasy, his father was overbearing and aggressive. In her opinion, he was asking to be hit in the head with his own bludgeon.

“Yes, Spitelout, that’s what I said,” Stoick snipped, brow furrowed. “Good to know that you were paying attention.”

“His scent could be being overpowered by another one,” Fishlegs suggested. “That would certainly confuse Skullcrusher.”

“You’ve got a point, lad,” Mulch said. Stoick, the dragon riders, and the auxiliary riders were sitting on benches around the stove in the clubhouse. Heather hadn’t really met them before, and she was feeling anxious because they would soon be looking to her for answers. They had all been informed that she was Dagur’s sister. “But what do we do if we can’t track him?”

“We just go find him, Mulch.”

“Bucket, that’s what we’re having trouble doing!” Mulch exclaimed to the large blonde man sitting beside him. He was wearing his namesake on his head, and Heather really didn’t know what to make of it, and he seemed… slow when it came to thinking.

“So what do we do?” Tuffnut asked. He was sitting beside Snotlout, but not too close. They obviously didn't want his dad to find out about their relationship.

“Wait just a minute,” Spitelout started. He pointed to Heather, and she braced herself, hoping she didn't look as anxious as she felt. “You're the man’s sister! Why don't you know where he is?!”

“We didn't exactly have time to chat when he was helping me escape,” Heather responded icily. “And if he does have some base of operations, he never told me about it. He’s paranoid. He’d keep something like that a secret, even from me.”

Spitelout grumbled something under his breath and folded his arms.

“What about Berzerk?” Gustav suggested. He was the youngest there, but he had the right to know what was going on. “Do you think he would go back?”

“We have no way of knowing,” Astrid put in from where she sat beside Heather. She’d been silent almost the entire time, staring at the floor like it had insulted her. “But I think that if he was still with Viggo we would have been attacked by now. The Dragon Hunters would have questioned Hiccup. That gives us an enemy on two fronts instead of one, and if Dagur goes back to Berzerk, we’ll be in big trouble.”

“But why haven't Dagur or the Dragon Hunters attacked?” Mulch asked. “They know where we are.”

“Dagur won't attack us,” Snotlout answered. “We have to go after him.”

“Why wouldn't he?” Spitelout asked his son. “He’s a full-blown lunatic! He doesn't need an excuse to go to battle!”

Snotlout suddenly looked uncomfortable, and Heather could feel a similar tension from the rest of the teens. Dagur wouldn't attack because he had what he wanted. He had Hiccup.

“I’ve got an idea,” Heather announced, saving anyone from having to lie, or worse, explain what was actually going on. “We don't know if he's going to Berzerk or not, but the best thing to do would be to get there before him. They’ve been without a leader for three years, but I have the right to take the throne. I can get them on our side and we’ll have greater numbers.” She was suddenly feeling confident. She hated all this not knowing and waiting around for something to happen. That would be doing something.

“It's a good idea, Heather,” Stoick noted, “but they don't know you. How would we get them to believe you?”

“It’s not ‘we.’ I’m going alone. They certainly won't trust me at all if I have Berk’s chief with me.” She took a deep breath. Stoick was right, but she still had to try. “I’ll show them the horn. I hope it’ll be enough.”

“Not if you fly in on your dragon and scare the living yak dung out of them!” Ruffnut exclaimed.

“I’ll go by boat,” Heather said. “But I’ll still have Windshear with me. We can craft a sail with the Berserker crest on it to make it easier for me to get in.”

“Hold on, I'm going with you,” Astrid stated firmly. “There's not much I can do here, and you should at least have one person with you.”

Heather gave Astrid a small nod and smiled. No point in arguing with that. She was grateful that she was willing to help her.

“Alright, so you and Astrid will be going to Berzerk to gain control of it before Dagur can,” Stoick clarified. “And the rest of us will be doing anything we can to find Hiccup, and keep an eye out for Viggo.” There was a spark of hope in his eyes. “Any questions?”


	9. Chapter 8

The sails billowed outwards in the strong, but favorable wind, the prow of the boat cutting smoothly through the deep blue water. The middle and larger sail bore the black image of a Skrill, its body curled and its wings raised, the crest of the Berserker tribe. Berk’s craftsmen had done a just imitation of it.

Heather and Astrid had set sail that morning, gifted with clear blue skies and calm seas. If this weather continued, they would reach Berzerk in about three days time.

Though there were only two of them, they had taken a longship to comfortably fit the dragons. Windshear was curled up near the mast and Stormfly was stalking the deck of the ship. They would have rather been flying than traveling by boat. Heather would have preferred it too, but it would do no good getting shot out of the sky upon their arrival.

Stormfly’s itch to move was no doubt coming from her rider. Astrid was pacing a few feet on the deck, switching her axe from hand-to-hand. Heather sighed and moved from her position at the tiller. She wouldn't need to do any steering for the moment.

“Seems like a stupid question given the circumstances, but is everything alright?” Heather asked, positioning herself near Windshear. She stroked her bored-looking dragon on the nose.

“I just wish we knew everything,” Astrid answered, stopping and turning to look at her. “I wish we knew where Dagur was with Hiccup, and where Viggo is. I can't fight something if we don't know where it is.”

“At least you and me will be doing something,” Heather told her. She understood how Astrid was feeling, but having a clear purpose now had helped diminish it. That didn't mean she wasn't nervous about what she was trying to do. She had been sent away from Berzerk, her homeland, when she was only a little girl, traded to a warring tribe as a token of peace. She hardly remembered anything from it, and she worried that no one would take her seriously, that they wouldn't believe her to be the long lost Berserker princess. She was taking a big risk in doing this, and so was Astrid in coming with her.

“Yeah,” Astrid agreed, hefting her axe over her shoulder. “Got a plan for when we get there?”

“No, not really,” Heather admitted, voice losing strength, revealing how uneasy she was feeling about all this. “No one will recognize me. Why should they accept me as their leader? And, am I even cut out to be a leader? I’ve been alone most of my life!”

Windshear looked up to her and made a sympathetic grumbling noise.

“Whoa, calm down.” Astrid set her axe down against the side of the ship and approached her, took her by her armored shoulders. “You- _We’ll_ figure it out. You're not alone anymore. We’ve got time to figure it all out.”

“Thank you, Astrid.” Heather didn't know how to express in words the gratitude she was feeling. It was a wonderful thing that she could count on someone and trust them. It was a luxury she had been deprived of. She hugged her, closing her eyes and soaking in the feeling of her warmth and her breath. 

There was a playful squawk, Astrid gasped, and all of her weight was suddenly shoved into Heather. 

“Whoa!” Heather exclaimed in surprise. The both of them tumbled to the deck, still holding onto each other. The breath was knocked out of her as Astrid came down on top of her.

They met each other’s gazes for a moment, pink working its way into their cheeks, but then Astrid twisted the top half of her body to look at her dragon.

“Stormfly!” There was a laugh in her voice.

The Nadder squawked again in what sounded like amusement, and Windshear rumbled. 

Heather laughed from her place under Astrid. It felt good; it was something she hadn't done in a long time.

Astrid laughed too. She rolled off of her and they both just lay on their backs, laughing at the crisp, clean air and the joy of each other’s company. Stormfly squawked again and batted her wings, tilting her head to look at them. She was probably wondering what they were doing instead of playing with her like she wanted them to.

“Whew!” Astrid sat up, trying to calm her breathing. “Haven't done that in a long time!”

“Me neither!” Heather stood and helped Astrid to her feet. She felt like a weight had been lifted off her chest. She felt more confident about this plan, like she could actually convince the Berserkers of her identity and lead them. “Wondering if I ever would again.” She gave Astrid a big grin, put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m glad that you’re here.”

 

Hiccup’s second prison was about the same as the first, but in a completely different spot of the camp. A long chain was attached to his foot, leaving him room to move around. It really hadn’t been that hard to escape the first one. All he had had to do was trick a soldier that was bringing him food, steal the keys, and get out. Problem was, he didn’t know the layout of the camp, didn’t know where he was. They made absolutely sure of that. He had been caught, tied up with the sack put over his head, and then brought to this cheery little hole that he got to call home. The worst injury he had taken in his attempted escape was a hard punch in the gut, but the soldiers did nothing else to harm him, following Dagur’s orders. That was a bit of a relief. 

_Or is it? Why does Dagur care that I’m not hurt or anything? Probably wants to do that himself._

He sat in his prison, dragging his finger through the dirt, beginning an outline of Toothless. He missed his dragon terribly, and he hoped that he was okay and that his friends had gotten his message. Also, he was bored. He had nothing else to do but doodle in the dirt with his finger.

He also had time to think, to plan and worry and wonder. As far as he could tell, Dagur wasn’t in contact with Viggo or Ryker. Hiccup hadn’t seen either of them, and most of the soldiers in the camp were Berserkers. He couldn’t really decide if this split from the Dragon Hunters was a good thing or a bad thing. It would give him and his friends two separate enemies to fight, rather than having all their enemies in one place. Dagur didn’t have anyone to hold him back from what he wanted to do either. But it could prove a slight advantage. The Dragon Hunter fleet was now quite a bit smaller without the addition of Dagur’s ships, especially since he had taken some of the Dragon Hunters’ with him. But Dagur’s army… Hiccup hadn’t imagined it being so big, especially not after the defeat they had handed him three years ago. How had he gathered so many? Maybe some of them weren’t even Berserkers. Maybe he had just picked up rogues and mercenaries along the way. He certainly had the money to pay for an army so large. He couldn’t get an accurate count of them though, not in his position, but he was sure there were thousands.

_What a mess._

Hiccup was tempted to start planning another escape, but he had tried only about an hour ago, as far as he could tell. Everyone was still on guard and it would be expected of them. No, he should wait and let them think he wasn’t going to try, and do it when they least expected. He would act subdued for now. 

Logically, he should just give up - there were too many things working against him - but he just couldn’t. He was determined to get out of there and get back to his friends and his dad and his dragon. Then he could lead an army to this place and crush them.

He sighed, finished his drawing of Toothless with his tail. He had drawn him saddleless, so the picture only had one tailfin. 

“I really miss you, bud,” he said quietly to the outline in the dirt. There was a guard posted outside for once, and he didn’t want him to think he was going nuts or talking to himself. Well, he was sort of talking to himself. Going nuts? Hopefully not.

There was a pang in his chest. He’d already been away for too long, and he wanted to be free before Dagur got back. His presence would just make it harder to escape, and his imprisonment would grow far, _far_ worse. He wondered what he was doing. Was it possible he was meeting with Ryker or Viggo to somehow negotiate them into not being his enemies? Was he gathering more soldiers? The former seemed more likely in the current situation. Dagur was smart; he wouldn’t want to have the Dragon Hunters as an enemy while reigniting the war with Berk. That’s certainly what he had done by taking him. Hiccup knew his father would do anything to see him safely returned, even if it meant waging war against an enemy that greatly outnumbered them.

He was led to thinking about his father. He was wondering what he was doing, what his friends were doing. Had they listened to his orders to abandon Dragon’s Edge, or had Stoick kept them there? Had they even gotten his message and knew what had happened to him? He knew that Toothless could have survived the swim back to Dragon’s Edge, but the prosthetic? That was questionable. Hopefully they had gotten it and weren’t thinking he drowned or something.

_But if they got the message, then where are they? Skullcrusher can track anything._

Then again, they’d never tested the Rumblehorn’s tracking in a massive army that rarely had the luxury of bathing. And that first day or so of being captured, Dagur had been all over him, probably overwhelming his scent so much that Skullcrusher couldn’t distinguish it.

Hiccup scrunched up his face at the thought and memory of Dagur touching him, and turned his sitting position to a clear spot of dirt to draw something else: Astrid. He wondered how she was taking it. He knew she really liked him, and he was pretty sure she might even love him. Was she planning? Was she running around in an axe-throwing rampage where Snotlout had been the first casualty? He didn’t really know. He’d been captured before, but the only time it had ever been this long had been years ago, and they hadn’t even known he’d been captured that time. They’d just been mildly concerned.

_But what if they think I’m dead? What if they burned a boat, feeling empty because they never found my body?_

That thought hurt terribly, brought a real pain to his chest and a sudden aching in his throat. He couldn’t stand the idea of his friends and his dad thinking he was dead. It was just…

_But I’m not dead and I won’t be dead. Dagur doesn’t want me dead. If they got my message, they’ll know I’m alive. They know he doesn’t want me dead._

Hiccup was trying not to think about what Dagur wanted him for, but the thought entered his mind, and he was hit with a sudden anger and terror that altered the movement of his hand and made him mess up the drawing of Astrid. Frustrated, he wiped it away with his palm and started again.

He had to get out. He just had to get out before Dagur got back. He couldn’t allow that to happen to him. He just… 

He felt queasy, but his blood was burning hot. He had to escape. There was just no way that he couldn’t. He had a few more days before Dagur got back, maybe even more than that if whatever he was doing held him up. He could do it. He could get out of here and get back home. He had no choice.

Getting home would be the difficult part. He would have to steal a boat, a small one, and hope he was quite far away before anyone noticed. He would certainly be pursued. It would be easier if there was a dragon he could free and fly away on, but he didn’t think there were any in the camp. If only it were a Dragon Hunter camp. Then he’d have an easier time escaping.

But no, he was thinking too far ahead. He didn’t know his way around the camp, so he had no idea where the docks were. He had no idea where he even was, or how far from Dragon’s Edge or which direction. He would have used the sun and the stars to find out, but he hadn’t really been given a good view from his first prison, and this one was most likely the same.

Sighing, Hiccup looked down at his finished drawing of Astrid. He had drawn her smiling, and it made him sad. He missed her, and knew that she probably wasn’t smiling very often given the situation, if at all. He would be forever grateful to whoever it was that could make her smile in this trying time. It was probably Heather. Though she had issues with trusting people and not a lot of social skills, she and Astrid always knew how to be emotional support for each other.

_I could use some of that right about now._

He would never say it out loud, and he had still refused to show it, but he was scared. Bad things would happen to him when Dagur got back, things that plagued his dreams and made him sick. He didn’t want to say or think that one horrible word, but he knew that that was what was coming if he didn’t get out soon. It terrified him, filled him with a heavy sense of dread, but he didn’t show any of this. Instead, he was stubborn and defiant, two things that could probably never be taken out of him. As he had said at one point in his life, Vikings had stubbornness issues, even if displaying such a trait would just make matters worse. Hiccup didn’t care about this logic. Never in his life had he succumbed to anyone or anything, and he wasn’t going to let that change anytime soon.


	10. Chapter 9

Heather and Astrid had anchored the ship off of a small island that they had spotted in the evening, deciding that it was a good place to stop for the night - well, hoped really. It wouldn’t be good if there were any aggressive dragons or people on their little rest stop. They decided to survey the place before setting up camp, and the dragons were ecstatic to finally be off the boat and in the air.

They were silent as they flew, gliding low over the trees and skirting the edges of the small landmass. There wasn't much to say except for things they had already discussed, and Astrid didn't want to add stress to what Heather was already feeling, or add to her own. It was hard to think about anything other than the chaos that had befallen them, and there was that constant, incessant question in her mind: where was Hiccup?

Astrid clutched tight to Stormfly’s saddle, feeling the urge to grab her axe and embed it in something. Usually tree trunks served just fine as her victims, but there was a bloodlust in her that made her crave the feeling of the blade cutting into flesh, specifically Dagur’s. A sense of guilt washed over her at the thought though, and she glanced at Heather, who was a little ways ahead of her. They would certainly have to kill him - he couldn't be left to roam free anymore, and imprisoning him was too risky seeing as he had already escaped once. Would she understand? Heather had been trying to kill Dagur before she had learned of her heritage, but she had grown close to him recently. 

_Hiccup would want us to find another way, wouldn't he?_ She asked herself. Sometimes she thought his thinking was too merciful, too forgiving, but then again, that was part of what made him a great leader.

_But maybe not this time. If Dagur really…_

Stormfly made a distressed sound at her as her hold on the saddle tightened even more and her legs squeezed her sides. The dragon could sense that something was wrong.

Astrid forced her muscles to ease up, rubbed a hand over Stormfly’s neck to assure her that everything was alright. She squawked quietly in question, not falling for her rider’s relaxed act.

“Hey, everything alright?”

Astrid jumped a little. She had become so lost in thought she had forgotten that she wasn't alone. She looked to see Heather flying next to her, face showing concern.

“Well, you know…” Astrid wasn't quite sure what to say. No. Of course she wasn't alright, but voicing her worries would be pointless: they just went in circles. “Let myself think a bit too much,” she answered. “About what could be happening to Hiccup.” Her stomach twisted.

Heather’s expression turned grim, and she drew her gaze from Astrid’s face. Her jaw was tightly set, and it was obvious she had nothing to say to this, no way to comfort her.

“How about we set up camp?” Astrid asked after almost a minute in tense silence. “It’ll be getting dark soon and the island doesn't seem inhabited.”

Heather gave a small nod, and they both swooped down to the beach where they had anchored. The setting sun turned the sand orange and glinted off of Windshear's metallic scales. The setting was mockingly peaceful: there was a cool, gentle wind, and the waves sparkled yellow and red beneath the colorful sky. Astrid breathed a heavy sigh as Stormfly landed, then slid from the saddle and onto the ground. A chill ran through her body and raised the hair on her arms; it was going to be a cold night.

“I’ll go find some wood for a fire,” Heather informed her.

“Yeah, good idea.” Astrid rubbed her hands over her bare arms to try to create some warmth. She had been too deep in thought to have felt the cold while she was flying, but now she felt entirely chilled over. 

“And you should change into something warmer.”

“Was already planning on it.”

As Heather disappeared into the line of trees and encroaching darkness, Astrid retrieved her bag from the boat and hurriedly changed. She liked her spiked leather skirt, but it really didn't seem practical at the moment, so she removed it. She replaced her tank top with a long-sleeved red tunic that fell almost to her knees, and pulled on a fur vest over it, feeling much more comfortable than she had before. Then she decided to undo her braid, leaving her hair to cover her reddened ears.

Stormfly tilted her head at her as she returned to the beach, approving of her new apparel. Astrid smiled at her dragon’s silent compliment and then set to work. It didn't look like it was going to rain, so she didn't bother putting up tents, and instead laid out two sleeping rolls next to each other on the sand. 

Next, she prepped some food they had packed, cleaning a decently-sized halibut to share, and then chopping up a couple of potatoes. That was as far as she would go, however, and she hoped that Heather was a good cook. Though Hiccup didn't have it in him to tell her that she was terrible at it, she had figured it out. It had been all too clear when Toothless was gagging on something on the floor and Hiccup’s face was slightly red while he “chewed” in a very exaggerated manner. She hadn't pointed this out though, or been mad about it. Rather, she thought it was sweet that he had wanted to spare her feelings.

It felt like a fist hit her in the chest. Oh gods, he had to be okay wherever he was. Part of her feared that she would never see him again, and she felt tears well in her eyes. She ashamedly wiped them away with her sleeve.

_Don't be stupid, Astrid. We’ll find him, or he’ll get away on his own. He’s fine. He’s not helpless._

Astrid had schooled herself back into composure by the time Heather returned. It was almost completely dark now, and it was a comfort to know that they would soon have a fire.

“Oh, are you cooking for me?” Heather asked. There was a flirtatious tone in her voice that Astrid was pretty sure she hadn’t imagined.

“Gods, no! You wouldn’t want me to! I don’t even think Meatlug would like my cooking, and she eats rocks!”

Heather laughed as she stacked the wood that she had found, and Astrid smiled. What she had said did sound pretty funny.

“Don’t worry, I’ll do it,” Heather assured her. She gave a little wave of her hand and Windshear shot a white-hot blast at the pile of wood. Then the dragon lumbered off towards the ocean in search of food, Stormfly close behind.

Astrid went over to the fire and handed the pan of uncooked food to Heather, then sat down cross-legged in the circle of warmth and light.

“I like the look, by the way,” Heather commented as she set the pan down and began doing something with the food. Probably adding spices, but Astrid didn’t care to pay attention.

“Oh, uh, thanks.” She hoped that the heat she felt in her cheeks was from the fire and not her blushing. “Thanks for cooking too,” she added.

“Not a problem. I got pretty good at it since there wasn’t anyone to do it for me in the woods and all. Well, I hope I did.” She flashed her a hopeful smile. “ _I_ like it at least.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Astrid told her.

And it was. It was better than fine, really, and Astrid quickly let her know this. How did people do that with food when hers turned out tasting only a little bit better than sand?

They ate in relative silence, though a comfortable one. The dragons returned from their own dinner and curled up near their riders, ready for sleep.

“You know, Astrid, this isn't so bad,” Heather commented, setting her plate aside and leaning back on her elbows. Her eyes were directed at the sky, the stars bright with the absence of clouds. “I mean, I wish they were different circumstances and all, but this right here, this is nice.”

“Yeah,” Astrid agreed a little halfheartedly, pulling her knees up. If only the circumstances _were_ different. But Heather was right. In this moment with the beautiful sky above her, the calm and the quiet and the warmth of the fire, she could almost forget that there was a war going on. It wouldn't last however. Battle and bloodshed were just around the corner. 

“Sometimes I just wish I could take off with Stormfly and never come back,” Astrid voiced after a few minutes. Her mind was far from peaceful despite the calm around her. If only she could relax. “Just live on my own away from all the complications that people bring.”

“It’s lonely,” Heather told her.

“It’s just a thought I get sometimes,” Astrid clarified. “I would never do it. I have to take care of my friends and protect them. I would never be able to leave them.” She turned to look at Heather, who had shifted so she was now sitting up straight. Half of her face was covered in shadow, the other lit warmly by the crackling flames. It softened her features, which for the past few days had been hard with stress, worry, and determination. The other woman was looking at her in such an endearing, concentrated way that Astrid nearly forgot what she was going to ask her. Though, she got the question out without fumbling.

“You wouldn't leave, would you? Not like you did last time?”

Heather’s lips curled into a little smile. Astrid felt the fingers of one hand slide over hers. She’d been leaning closer without realizing it.

“No, not unless I have a good reason.” Her voice was sincere and gentle.

“What would count as a good reason?” Astrid had lowered her voice as well, peering into Heather’s large green eyes. The space between them was disappearing, and  
Astrid’s heart thudded hard in her chest.

“If you were coming with me.” 

Heather leaned her head towards her, and Astrid didn't know what to do other than follow along, her eyes fluttering closed. It felt like sparks erupted in her stomach when Heather kissed her. Her wonderful lips were soft against hers, but commanded emotion at the same time: caring, want, _love._

Astrid squeezed her hand, leaned into the contact of her lips. It seemed as if her stress was melting away, and her spinning thoughts were slowing down and dissolving. A blissful happiness was beginning to wash through her.

They both broke the kiss, and Astrid could feel Heather smiling along with her. It was hardly a second later that their lips molded back together, craving that contact and the comfort and wonder that came with it. 

Heather slid her hand away from Astrid's grip, but only so she could use both hands to hold her face. They were cool and rough against her cheeks, calloused from battle, hard work, and flying. Astrid hadn't imagined them being any different.

She couldn't help herself; she took Heather’s face too. Astrid roamed her thumbs over those beautiful cheekbones of hers while she felt a tongue tease between her lips. She parted her mouth to allow entrance, breathing a little, contented hum.

But then it hit her. What was she doing?! How could she be-?

Astrid hurriedly pulled away, breaking all contact with Heather. She angled herself mostly away from her, cheeks turning fiercely red in embarrassment and shame.

“I shouldn't have done that. Hiccup-”

“No, it’s my fault,” Heather quickly cut in. “I-I kissed you first. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking.”

Astrid's heart pounded, and she made herself turn back to look at her. She wasn't quite sure what to say. Heather's cheeks were burning and she looked uncomfortably down at the ground, one foot shifting in the sand.

“Thank you.” Her voice didn't come out as loud as she had planned it to.

“Huh?” Heather met her gaze, clearly confused.

Astrid felt her blush deepen. This was absolutely crazy.

“I, uh… You actually got me to relax for a minute there.” She huffed out a nervous chuckle. “It was, um… It was nice.”

She fought down the urge to smack herself. Gods, she sounded like an idiot! An idiot with a crush that she shouldn't have.

“Uh, yeah,” Heather responded awkwardly. Neither of them were looking at each other anymore. “N-No problem.” She dragged a finger through the sand.

“I… I should probably try to get some sleep,” Astrid responded after some time in tense silence, unsure of what else to say, if there really was anything else. It had just been a… mistake, was all. She hoped that she would be able to brush it off the next morning, and that Heather would too.

“Uh, yeah. Good idea.” Heather still wasn't looking at her, and the half and half of light and dark on her face made it hard to tell if her cheeks were still red. Astrid knew that hers were. “I, um, I should do that too.”

They set out there sleeping rolls on opposite ends of the campfire from each other. The space felt odd to Astrid, who had begun getting used to spending nights wrapped in Heather's arms or vice versa. Laying there in the dark, the fire dwindling down to embers, she chided herself for this too. She shouldn't have allowed any of it! She’d let her feelings lead her instead of her head, and it had gotten too far. Guilt curled her stomach, and she wondered what would happen when Hiccup was back. Would she tell him? Or… 

But that was the least of their issues at the moment, and would still be once they got Hiccup back. Once _she_ got Hiccup back.

 _Oh gods, he's gonna be a mess._ Astrid rolled onto her side with that despairing thought. If he was actually going through what they all suspected he was… A sob began to ache in her throat but she swallowed it down, tears beginning to sting at her eyes. It wasn't like her to cry, but she could allow it if the tears were for somebody else, for Hiccup, who she cared deeply about.

_All these years and I haven't even told him that._

Astrid felt horrible. He would be enduring the worst thing imaginable without knowing how much she cared for him. What if the absence of that knowledge broke him? What if she never saw him again and never had the chance to say it?!

She choked down a sob, which resulted in an odd strangling noise. Her face was wet with slow-falling tears and her nose was beginning to get stuffed up. She didn't want to cry loudly, didn't want Heather to think that she had to come and comfort her. Astrid wanted to be alone. No, she wanted to be with Hiccup.

Astrid curled up in a ball against the horrible emotions, a very real ache in every part of her body. She didn't know how long she remained that way crying, but at some point sleep came to take her away from the cruelty of reality.

 

_Berk was burning. It was sight that Hiccup had become used to, though there hadn’t been a dragon attack in nearly four years. But this wasn’t a dragon attack. Hiccup felt that he would prefer that over a successful Berserker invasion. At least with dragons you knew the worst you would get was a painful, but probably quick death. Berserkers were worse, far worse, because that meant Dagur, and Hiccup would take being eaten by a dragon any day over what the chief had in mind for him._

_What was worse, was that he couldn’t find his dad, Astrid, or Toothless, and for some reason he had no weapon with him. The attack had come out of nowhere, starting with flaming boulders that had been launched from the fleet of ships that had managed to sneak up on them. In the next minute, the whole island was set ablaze and filled with the chaos of battle. The Berserkers were too fast, and Hiccup couldn’t find the ones that he cared about to make sure they were okay._

_Hiccup had taken shelter behind one of the few houses that was still intact. He felt completely helpless, a deep pit of fear gnawing away at his insides._

_He didn’t know what to do first. Go find Toothless? Get a weapon? Search for his dad and his friends? He was finding it difficult to think with all the noise and insanity around him._

_Making a decision, Hiccup cupped his hands around his mouth and imitated the call of a Night Fury. Wherever Toothless was, he hoped that he could hear him._

_He waited with bated breath for a response. There was nothing, which almost started him panicking, but then he reasoned that Toothless probably just hadn’t heard him._

Gotta try louder then.

_Hiccup repeated the dragon call, louder than he had before, though this would undoubtedly give his position to more than just his dragon._

_After a few seconds, a roar came back over the yelling and clashing of weapons. It sounded angry. And hurt._

Toothless!

_Forgetting about his own safety in favor of his friend’s, Hiccup dashed out from his hiding place. He had to help him!_

Hold on, Toothless. I’m coming, buddy.

_It was hard to pinpoint where exactly his dragon had signalled from, but Hiccup would go into the thick of things if he had to. Hurriedly surveying the battle, he realized that not a single dragon rider was present. This worsened the bad feeling in his gut. Berk was heavily outnumbered. How were they going to win without dragons?_

_Hiccup looked around for anything he could use as a weapon, expecting to be attacked at any moment. There were Berserkers all around him, rushing at anyone they spotted with a murderous gleam in their eyes._

_A long stick he found on the ground would have to do. He found a Berserker running straight at him when he straightened with the stick in hand. Hiccup raised it to defend himself, swung, but missed as the man veered around him. He whipped around, expecting to be attacked from behind, but the Berserker was now in combat with someone that had been behind him._

Okay, that was weird.

_Another roar from Toothless broke over the noise, urging him to hurry. Hiccup broke into a run, hoping the other Berserkers would ignore him like the first one seemingly had._

_Hiccup ran through the middle of town. He had to dodge around combatants and fiery debris, but for some reason, he was left unnoticed._

_“Toothless! Toothless, where are you?!”_

_There was suddenly a pained screech that tore at Hiccup's heart. It was close, around the next corner._

“ _Toothless!_ ”

_Hiccup skidded to a stop, breathing hard, eyes going wide. He stumbled back a couple steps like he had hit a wall, jaw dropping. Shock and horror was hurled at him like a boulder from a catapult._

_A few feet in front of him, his dragon, his best friend, lay on the ground unmoving in a pool of crimson. He would have run to him if not for the man who stood with a foot placed victoriously on Toothless’ head._

Oh gods, it doesn’t look like he’s breathing.

_Hiccup’s eyes filled with tears and he nearly dropped his stick, but then tightened his grip on it._

_“Hello, Hiccup,” Dagur said without looking at him. Instead he was admiring the blood coating his axe. “I was going to come looking for you next, but here you are saving me the trouble.”_

_“Get - away from him,” Hiccup demanded, voice dangerous. He had to help Toothless._

_Dagur looked down at the Night Fury. “Oh, you mean this guy? Don’t worry about it. He’s dead now.”_

_Dead? Toothless dead?_ Dead?!

This is a gods forsaken nightmare.

 _Hiccup nearly fell, legs losing the strength to hold him. But then he was filled with a rage he’d never felt before. With a furious, feral-sounding scream, Hiccup charged forward, vision going red. He managed to take Dagur off guard with his first strike, hitting him right across the face. The tears let loose and he screamed, hitting the Berserker chief a second time._

_The man laughed._ Laughed. _And then suddenly his stick was chopped in two by his axe._

 _Hiccup took a step back, blinking to clear his vision. Then he charged at Dagur again, planning to use his fists. It was stupid to charge at an armed enemy with nothing, but Hiccup didn’t care._ Dagur had killed Toothless.

_Dagur didn’t use his axe though. He actually threw it aside, then grabbed at Hiccup’s arms before he could hit him. He slipped in the blood all around him, crashed to his knees. Then Dagur hit him in the face and he was reeling backward, falling on his back. Toothless’ blood was quickly soaking into his clothing and hair. It was still warm. If he’d only been a little faster…_

_“I’m gonna kill you!” He got on his hands and knees, tried rising, but a hand on his head shoved him back down._

_“Sure you are, Hiccup.” Dagur sounded amused of all things._

_There was suddenly a weight on him, straddling him, and he panicked, thrashing and flailing._

_“I’m gonna kill you! Get_ off _of me!”_

_A hand placed in the middle of his back flattened him painfully to the soaked ground. Blood got on his face. He felt like he was dying, unable to really fathom what was happening._

_“This is so my day, Hiccup. Invading Berk, killing the Night Fury, and-” Dagur leaned over him to speak right in his ear- “I have you.”_

_Hiccup struggled, but there wasn’t much he could do while pinned on his stomach like this. He was sobbing loudly and uncontrollably._

_“Get off of me! Get off!” He slammed his fists into the ground, kicked his legs. He had to get Dagur off of him somehow._

_The chief suddenly had him in a headlock, which he responded to with a strangled cry. His other hand grabbed at the hem of his pants._

_“No, no, no!” Hiccup spluttered. He was filled with a tremendous amount of dread and terror that he’d never felt before, and he just wanted to die._

_“Help! Somebody help me!”_

_Dagur shrieked out a laugh, tightening his hold on him. “No one is going to pick out your screams in the middle of battle, Hiccup.”_

_“Stop! Stop! Get off of me! Let go!” Hiccup knew that pleading with Dagur wouldn’t do anything, but he kept at it anyway. It was better than accepting this silently._

_As Dagur pulled Hiccup’s pants down, he searched frantically for anyone that could come to his aid. He prayed that Toothless would get up and blast the man assaulting him, but there was no way he was still alive. He was lying there in the proof of that with his mortal enemy on top of him. He felt like he was going to be sick._

_“Dad!” Hiccup shouted. Relief flooded through his veins at the sight of his father, until he realized that something was wrong. He was standing a few feet away, facing him, but he didn’t react to any of it. He just stood and stared._

_He was going to yell for his dad again, but then noticed Astrid standing next to him. She was just as motionless._

_“Dad! Astrid! Help me!” He resumed his struggling to get Dagur off of him. Why weren’t they doing anything? Why were they just watching?!_

_Hiccup yelled in frustration and terror. They had to help him!_

_“Dad! Help! Astrid!”_

_“Shut up!” Dagur shouted angrily. Then Hiccup felt something long and hard pressed against his backside._

_Hiccup sobbed. It felt like his insides were boiling and liquefying. He was overwhelmed by heat: heat from adrenaline, from the man on top of him, from Toothless’ blood that was smeared on his face and soaked through to his skin._

_“Dad! Astrid!”_

_It felt like he was stabbed through with a hot iron. He screamed; then his world was obliterated in white._

 

“ _Argh!_ Help! Dad! Astrid! Help me!”

Hiccup woke screaming at the top of his lungs, scrabbling at the ground in a panic. It took a few more screams and cries for help for him to realize that he was awake, that it had all been a dream, a horrid nightmare conjured by his worst fears.

He sat up, sweating and gasping for breath. A pit of dread sat in his stomach, and his body vibrated with terror. His heart throbbed wildly.

Hiccup ran his shaking hands over himself just to make sure that there was no blood. His clothes were dry, but his face was wet. He had been crying, still was actually.

He didn’t feel a huge amount of relief realizing it had all been a dream though. The only thing he knew for sure was that Toothless was still alive, but if he didn’t escape soon, parts of the nightmare would become reality.

He was momentarily blinded by an orange light that came through the bars of his prison. Still on edge from the dream and expecting danger, he scooted backwards and brought up a hand to cover his face.

“Oi! What’s the racket?!” a gruff voice demanded of him. “I take a break for five minutes and you start screaming like the armies of Hel are after you.”

Hiccup lowered his hand from his face, though it would reveal his distraught features and tear-stained cheeks. He tried to harden his expression but his bottom lip trembled.

“N-Nothing,” he stammered, hoping the guard would leave him alone with his misery. “B-Bad dre-eam.”

The guard smirked at him in a taunting manner and Hiccup tried his best at a glare. Of course no sympathy would be coming from one of his guards.

“About your fate, I presume.” The man laughed cruelly, and Hiccup turned his head away, clenched his hands into fists. “You know what the chief wants you for, don’t ya?”

Hiccup didn’t grace that with a response. That’s what the man was trying to get out of him. He wished that he could block his ears without it making him look weak or pathetic.

“You’re gonna be his little toy,” the man continued. “Ya know what for?”

“Shut up,” Hiccup said quietly, shuffling around so that his back was turned. The last thing he needed was this man tormenting him, especially when he was still suffering the effects of his nightmare. He wiped at his eyes.

“You’re here ’cause he wants you as a fuck toy. A whore.”

Hiccup squeezed his eyes shut, a few tears falling free though he tried to stop them. He couldn’t believe this is what his life had come to.

“Y-Yeah, he’s made that pretty clear. So just leave me the Hel alone.” His voice was louder than it had been before.

“Are you scared, whore? Is that why you were screaming for your daddy?”

“Be quiet,” Anger was now working its way over to join his fear and hopelessness. Why couldn’t this idiot just leave him alone?

“Your dad’s not gonna want you as an heir once Dagur’s got to ya. No one’s gonna want to be told what to do by a cocksucking little bitch.”

“Shut up!” Hiccup finally shouted, rising and whipping around to face the guard.

“Aw, the puppy’s got a bark,” he mocked.

Hiccup was suddenly at the bars. Fury boiled his blood.

“Shut up you worthless piece of filth!”

“Oh, I’m the worthless filth?” the guard questioned. “Last I checked I’m not the one waiting for the chief to return and fuck me till I can’t move.”

Hiccup shouted wordlessly in anger, nearly grabbed at the bars before remembering there were spikes on them. “You shut up or-!”

“Or what? Can’t do much from in there.”

Hiccup ground his teeth together, narrowed his eyes in a glare. His fists shook at his sides. He didn’t think he’d ever wanted to hit someone so badly before, not even Snotlout. He felt helpless with it.

The man grinned at this victory. They both knew that he’d won whatever this was.

“If Dagur hadn’t ordered us not to touch you, I’d go in there and beat some respect into you.”

Hiccup turned away, moved towards the back of his prison. “People like you don’t deserve respect.” He made himself sit down, took a long breath in an attempt to calm his anger. No point getting all riled up when there was nothing to do with it.

“Oh! He’s gonna have quite the time breakin’ ya, isn’t he?” The guard sounded amused.

Hiccup didn't answer. He knew he could never let it get that far. He would do everything in his power to escape before any of that could happen. He didn’t want to have to worry about whether or not Dagur would break him. He’d get out before the man could lay a hand on him. He was sure of it.


	11. Chapter 10

“Hey! That’s mine!” Tuffnut cried, reaching for the mug that Snotlout had snatched out of his hand. The two were hanging out in Snotlout’s hut, and the shorter Viking had taken an interest in what he was drinking. Which would have been just fine if he didn’t feel the need to steal it from him.

“I just wanna know what it is,” Snotlout snipped, holding it away from Tuffnut’s reaching arm. Then, he turned his back, looked down into the mug, and abruptly took a sip.

“ _Snotlout!_ ”

“Huh, that tastes funny.”

“Well, if you don’t like it, give it back.” Tuffnut swiped the mug back, took a victorious swig of the hot liquid. That was much better.

“What the Hel is that tea made of?” Snotlout turned back around to face him, crossing his arms.

“A Thorston secret!” Tuffnut declared dramatically, holding the mug high.

“Shit, it’s that weird stuff, isn’t it?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Tuffnut took another sip, eyebrows raised. It was fun to mess around with Snotlout. He was cute when he was irritated.

“Gah! It’s… It’s that stuff!” Snotlout exclaimed in clear frustration. “Those leaves that make you act all funny.”

“I like to think of myself as being funny most, if not all of the time.

“Tuff, why are you doing this now of all times?! We have to focus on finding Hiccup!”

Tuffnut frowned. “This one just mellows me out, okay? Calms my nerves, ’cause trust me, I have a lot of those at the moment.”

“But _now?!_ ” Snotlout was fuming. “I mean, I know you’re stupid but-”

“You want some?” Tuffnut offered, sticking the mug in front of his face. “Sounds like you could use it.”

Snotlout slapped the mug out of his hand, spilling its contents on the floor.

“Tuffnut, why can’t you take anything seriously?”

“I do take things seriously!” Tuffnut retorted. “I just needed a little something so that I wouldn’t go completely out of my mind.”

“Too late for that,” Snotlout grumbled.”

Tuffnut laughed a little at that, anger quickly dissipating. At least he had had enough of the tea for it to take some effect.

“No, no, please don’t get all giggly.”

“I’m not. I just thought that was funny.”

Snotlout looked a little perplexed, and was about to say something when there was a knock at the door.

“Password please” Tuffnut called out.

“We don’t have a password, you numbskull!” came Ruffnut’s voice in response.

Tuffnut winked conspiratorially at Snotlout before moving to get the door. “That was the password.”

“What is it, dear sister?” Tuffnut asked as he opened the door.

“Stoick wants to see all of us in the clubhouse,” Ruffnut responded.

“Why?” Snotlout asked, coming over.

“I don’t know the inner workings of the chief’s mind, Snotlout!” Ruffnut cried. “Let’s just go!”

“Tuff, remember, if my dad’s there, don’t stand too close,” Snotlout whispered as the three left the hut.

“Yeah, I got that already.”

“No, seriously. He’d be livid if-”

“Snotlout, I get it,” Tuffnut interrupted. “You told me four times already.”

“I just-”

“Think I can’t take things seriously.”

“Could you two stop bickering like a couple of Terrible Terrors and hurry up?” Ruffnut called over her shoulder from where she was ahead of them. “Stoick doesn’t have a lot of patience, if you’ll remember.”

“Right, right.” The two quickened their pace.

Fishlegs was the only other one in the clubhouse besides the chief. Tuffnut saw Snotlout’s shoulders sag a little in relief.

“What’s the news, chief?” Snotlout asked, striding in and taking a seat on one of the benches. Stoick was standing, a look of barely suppressed anger on his face. Tuffnut and Ruffnut hurriedly took seats before he could order them to.

“I want to know what’s going on here,” Stoick demanded.

“Well, if you were paying any attention-”

Stoick held up a hand to quiet Ruffnut. “Don’t give me that right now. There’s something you’re all not telling me.”

“What would that be?” Fishlegs questioned nervously.

Stoick leaned towards him, placed his hands on the table. There was a threatening gleam in his eyes.

“I was hoping you could tell me.”

“Um…” Fishlegs shrunk under his gaze.

“I don’t know what you want us to say, chief,” Snotlout said, jumping to Fishlegs’ rescue.

Stoick turned his terrifying stare on him. “How about the truth?”

Snotlout folded his arms, looking exasperated. “We already told you what was going on.”

_And he thought my acting lessons wouldn’t come in handy._

“Yes, most of it, but I know that you’re all keeping something from me.” The big man threw his hands up in the air. “I have Hiccup for a son! Of course I can tell!”

No one jumped to speak at that remark. None of them wanted to tell Stoick what Dagur really wanted with his son. The tension was palpable. However, the silence just proved that they were hiding something.

“I knew it!” Stoick exclaimed. He folded his arms, gave each of them a stern glare. “Now, which one of you is going to tell me?”

“I wish Astrid was here,” Snotlout mumbled.

“Why’s that?”

“Because it would be better if she told you,” Snotlout responded resignedly.

“No, we can’t tell him!” Tuffnut cried, standing.

“Sit down!” Stoick barked. His attention went back to Snotlout. “Can’t tell me what?”

The rest of the dragon riders also turned their attention on Snotlout, who was definitely losing his nerve. They were all silently begging him to keep quiet.

“Uh…”

“Spill it.”

Snotlout was silent. Stoick narrowed his eyes.

_The Nut’s gotta come to the rescue._

“Okay!” Tuffnut cried. “I’m sorry! I used your axe as a toilet plunger!” He threw his head down on the table and started sobbing. “I’m sorry!”

“Tuffnut-” 

Tuffnut forced tears into his eyes, looked at him mournfully. “I-I’ll never do it again! I promise! I’ll d-do anything to repay you!”

Stoick sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Just get out all of you,” he said tiredly and in aggravation. “Go find something to busy yourselves with. And consider telling me in the future before I make Gothi give all of you the most foul-tasting concoction she can make.”

For a moment, none of them moved. Then they were all scrambling out of the clubhouse before Stoick could follow through on his threat right then and there. They felt it was safe to talk once they were a safe distance away. It started by Ruffnut smacking Snotlout upside the head and knocking off his helmet.

“What the Hel, Snotlout?! Why were you gonna tell him?!”

“Wow, Tuff, that was genius!” Fishlegs piped in.

“A thank you, mon ami,” Tuffnut said with a dramatic bow, his composure already returning from his little stint of fake crying.

“Yeah, it saved our butts for now,” Ruffnut grumbled, shooting a glare at Snotlout. “What are we gonna do?”

“We have to tell him,” Snotlout said solemnly.

This was met with wide-eyed stares.

“What? It beats the alternative of Hiccup having to tell him!” He bent to pick up his helmet.

Tuffnut’s stomach twisted. It felt wrong to be talking about it like this, to even imagine what was happening to their friend. They should be finding him, but they had no way to do that.

“Yeah…” Fishlegs agreed halfheartedly, poking his fingers together and looking down. “But _how_ do we tell him?”


	12. Chapter 11

Dagur crossed his arms, trying to hide the fact that he was nervous. He’d thought that maybe talking to Viggo on his own would be better without him having Ryker by his side, but he found it to be even worse. The man unnerved even him. 

“And where exactly have you been?” There was a hint of anger in Viggo’s voice, a slight narrowing of the eyes.

Dagur stubbornly kept eye contact. “I have my own people to take care of from time-to-time, Viggo. I am chief of the Berserkers if you haven’t forgotten.” Anger boiled just under the surface. He couldn’t stand the way this man treated him. Like he was lesser, like he was just a brainless soldier who had been hired to follow orders.

“Oh, I certainly haven’t forgotten.”

Dagur frowned deeply when Viggo drew his attention away from him and actually began looking at his nails, like he wasn’t of much importance. He leaned back in his chair, head just underneath the dragon skull mounted on it. Dagur opened his mouth to say something, but then Viggo continued.

“Though it seems at times you forget who is paying you. You did agree to work with me in exchange for gold, did you not?” He looked back up at him. “An army needs to eat, doesn’t it?”

Dagur allowed himself to sneer at him. “I go where I wish, Viggo.”

“With your entire fleet?” he questioned, rising fluidly to his feet. He circled around to the front of his desk to be standing even with Dagur. Another thing the Berserker didn’t like about him was that he was taller. “And some of my boats?”

 _Okay, maybe taking some of his had been a bad move,_ Dagur admitted to himself. It had been a childish act to try to spite him, but now he was certainly suspicious. Dagur didn’t necessarily want him to realize he wasn’t going to work with him anymore. That would have consequences.

“I had something to take care of.”

“But you left on such an important night,” Viggo said with a little disappointed shake of his head. “You missed quite the victory party as well.”

“Victory party?” he questioned. Hiccup hadn’t spoken to him of the night that he had attacked Viggo’s base; he had just thought that the battle had come to a draw.

Viggo smiled smugly at him, folding his hands behind his back. “We finally got the Dragon Eye.”

That came as a bit of a shock. Dagur lowered his arms, relaxed his stance a little. He was glad that the topic had moved away from where he had gone.

“Really? How?”

“Hiccup walked into my trap quite eagerly. Then a little bit of Flightmare mist to paralyze him, and the Dragon Eye was mine.”

“Smart,” Dagur commented honestly.

“Yes, I certainly think so. You could have joined our celebrations after disposing of Heather, you know.”

Heather was _not_ someone Dagur wanted to talk about with Viggo, especially since he hadn’t actually killed her like he had been told to and freed her instead. He hoped that the two soldiers he had killed to do it hadn’t been missed.

“Yeah, well, it was kind of important.” Great, now they were back to where they had started. Viggo had definitely done that on purpose. 

“I do trust that if it was something big you would tell me, correct?”

“Of course. But it’s all handled now. Nothing else to discuss.”

Viggo smiled at him and it made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. “Excellent. Now, since there are no pressing matters, you may do what you wish.”

 _As if I needed his permission._ Dagur had been planning on leaving his base after this meeting whether he was allowed to or not. Viggo couldn’t exactly stop him.

“Great. Glad we could talk.” He tried not to sound too overjoyed that the conversation was over, and when he left the tent he made sure that his steps were even and that he didn’t walk too fast. Showing Viggo he was afraid of him was the last thing he wanted to do.

Dagur was relieved once he was outside, glad that that had been taken care of. Now he could return to Hiccup.

 

After Dagur left, Viggo went in search of Ryker. He had to tell him that the Berserker chief was no longer working with them. Of course Dagur hadn’t said that but it had been plain for him to see. He had also decided it was best to not let on to Dagur that he knew. Better to keep him in the dark.

His anger was overridden by curiosity. Where had Dagur gone? What had he been doing?

He found his brother watching a wrestling match among the soldiers. He went up to stand next to him, planning on drawing him aside for a private conversation.

Ryker only paid him a glance. “Finished your courtship with the Dragon Eye then? Haven’t seen you in two days.” He gave a little chuckle.

Viggo didn’t think him funny at all, but he kept that to himself.

“I just spoke with Dagur,” he informed him. “Something has come up.”

“Oh?” Ryker looked back to him with eyebrows raised. “Didn’t know the crazy bastard had returned. What’d he say?”

Viggo turned on his heel, beckoned to his older brother with a hand as he began walking. And like the good dog he was, he followed without question. He was glad to have this brute on a leash without him even realizing it.

Once they were a safe distance away, Viggo stopped and turned to him, folding his hands behind his back.

“He is no longer working with us,” he informed him.

There was genuine surprise on Ryker’s face. “He said that?”

“Not explicitly, but there’s no need for him to,” Viggo answered. “Why else would he take his entire fleet with him when he left?”

“And some of ours,” Ryker grumbled bitterly.

“Never mind that. We have more ships,” Viggo said to diffuse his anger. “What I’m interested in is what he’s been up to.”

“If he’s still here I’d be happy to ask him.” Ryker pounded his fist into the palm of his other hand to accentuate his point.

“No. I don’t want to make it obvious to him that we know.”

“Then what do we do?” Ryker looked at a loss. Of course he couldn’t think of any plan save for physical violence.

“Well, he’s no doubt going back to wherever he’s been these past few days. I’ll follow him at a safe distance as not to raise suspicions,” Viggo explained. It was simple, but it would be effective.

“I’ll go with you then.”

“Actually, there are a few locations that I’ve mapped out that I want you to go to,” Viggo countered. “Can’t let business slow because of one little desertion. I’d like you to leave as soon as the preparations are made.”

“You sure you don’t want me coming with you?” Ryker questioned. “Dagur’s a tricky one.”

Viggo couldn’t hold in a smirk. “So am I.”


	13. Chapter 12

Saying that Berzerk was big would be a bit of an understatement. The island was easily four or more times the size of Berk. It was very different too, not situated on huge cliffs above the sea. The docks, which were slowly becoming visible, were built on flat ground, and past that the land sloped gently upwards towards what could only be the city. Buildings weren't visible, hidden behind smooth, gray stone walls, but it was too big to be anything but. Not a village or even a town: a city. It was surrounded by farmland and forested hills, and small villages and settlements dotted the visible part of the island at what appeared to be a great distance from the city.

Heather blew out a breath at the sight of it. It felt familiar to her, but that was all. She had no memories of the place, having been so young when she was given away. The sheer size of it served to increase her anxiety.

Astrid returned from below deck, stepping up beside her. There had only been about a day of awkwardness between them after the kiss, which Heather was grateful for. She wouldn't be able to stand it if she had accidentally pushed Astrid away from her.

"I hid Windshear and Stormfly."

"And you told them not to come after us?"

"Yeah. They're smart. They'll stay behind and out of sight."

Heather clamped her hands into fists. The island just looked bigger the closer they got to it. She couldn't believe she was actually doing this, that it was now right in front of her. She had been much more at ease a day or two ago, but now this was actually happening, and she could do nothing but go straight ahead.

"Oh boy, there's gonna be a lot of people." Heather allowed her anxiety to enter her voice. She didn't have to hide her emotions around Astrid.

Astrid put a hand on her armored shoulder. "I won't leave your side, Heather. You can do this."

She drew her gaze away from the approaching landmass to look at her. She wore her hair in her signature braid, but her tank top and spiked shirt had been replaced with a blue tunic with designs along the neckline etched in brown. It was a nice neckline too, showing the barest amount of cleavage. Astrid was definitely a much better sight than the island they were sailing towards.

"But how do I convince them of who I am?"

"I mean, someone's bound to recognize you, right? Your eyes don't change at all when you grow up and you have the same ones as Dagur." She tried to make her voice comforting and hopeful, but she was obviously nervous too.

Heather didn't like leaving all that up to her eyes alone, but she didn't have much to back her up. The only other thing she had was the horn that had been given to her by Stoick when she was born, and she didn't know how convincing that would be with his chief seal on it.

"They must have appointed some sort of temporary leader," Heather thought out loud instead of responding. Her attention had gone back to the island. "Looks pretty stable from here. I think I can see guards at the docks."

Of course, that just made her feel worse. If there was already a leader in place, they wouldn't be eager to accept her as one.

"Or maybe not. When Stoick isn't around power always reverts to Hiccup and the council. So it's probably just the council working together to make sure everything runs smoothly," Astrid reasoned.

"I hope that's what it is."

They approached the docks with no trouble since they were flying the Berserker flag, though the two people – a man and a woman – guarding the docks looked perplexed as they grew closer. A ship with only two visible passengers was bound to do that.

"Afternoon, travelers," the woman greeted them once they had stopped the boats along the wooden docks. She had red hair that she wore in a braid. "What's your business?"

Heather wasn't sure what to say. She had been expecting to be greeted with hostility, not politeness.

"Um, can we come off?" she asked, trying not to sound too timid.

"Of course, little lady," the other guard responded good-naturedly. He was older, with lines around his eyes from smiling and gray in his hair and beard. "You and your friend need help getting down?"

"No thanks, we're fine," answered Astrid, leaping off and onto the wood of the dock. Heather followed reluctantly.

"So, what brings you here?" The woman asked. She gestured to the sail. "Returning home, I suppose?"

Heather swallowed hard, stepped forward. "Actually, yes, I am." That wasn't a lie at least. It was time for the big moment. "I am Heather, daughter of Oswald the Agreeable and sister to Dagur the Deranged, and I demand to speak with your council."

The guards just looked at her for a moment in stunned silence, glanced at each other, and then returned their gazes to her. Heather inwardly braced herself, waiting to be laughed at for blasphemy, but she kept her back straight, even lifted her chin.

"You can't be serious." The man's comment sounded more surprised than disbelieving, and that made Heather relax a little. Barely.

"But… how?" The woman looked at a loss.

Heather hadn't been expecting either reaction, but then she realized that the blatant announcement of who she was was probably convincing. She hadn't wanted to dodge around the topic and lead them on letting them think she was someone else before she said who she actually was.

She softened her stance, glanced at the floor of the dock for a moment. "Um, that's a long story." There was a pang in her chest, but she quickly pushed it away. Now wasn't a good time to dredge up memories of what had happened to her village.

"Well, Heather, I'm sure you can tell us some of it on the way to the city," the man said, giving her a reassuring smile. "It's a bit of a walk."

"Hold on, you believe me? Just like that?"

"Most people don't walk around claiming to be the long lost Berserker princess," he replied. "And not with that much confidence. Though it's up to the council to see if you're telling the truth."

Heather smiled and dipped her head to him in gratitude. "Thank you."

Astrid came up beside her and patted her on the arm. "See? Told you it wouldn't be that hard."

_I don't think talking to the Council will be as easy as a couple of guards._

"So, uh, just one question." The woman pointed at Astrid. "Who are you?"

"Oh, um, Astrid Hofferson." She seemed a bit shy all of a sudden. "Of Berk."

"Berk?" The woman started. "But didn't-"

"Hey, guys, why not walk and talk, huh?" Heather interrupted, stepping in between the two guards and taking the lead off of the docks. "Gotta meet with the council and all."

"Oh right. Of course." The man came up and touched her shoulder. "Allow me to lead the way."

 

 

Astrid was in absolute awe of her surroundings. The wall around the city was massive, and entering through the wooden gates was even more of a shocker. She didn't think she'd ever seen so many buildings in one place, all in neat rows along cobbled streets. And the people! There were so many of them, out and about and doing their daily business, shopping and chores and whatnot. A lot of them also seemed to have clothes made out of a finer material than what she wore on a daily basis. She'd known that the Berserkers had much more money than Berk, but she'd never imagined it like this!

She stayed close to Heather, only a little surprised when her friend slipped her hand into hers. Astrid looked to her and gave her a reassuring smile, squeezed her hand. She'd told bits and pieces of her story on the way up from the docks, mostly the really important details. Now she had fallen silent, no doubt from anxiety.

They were slowly walking uphill, towards the center of the city where there sat a building so massive that Astrid wasn't sure of what she was seeing. It was… like a house, but not. More like the size of multiple houses put together, made of stone, and with towers, and surrounded by _another_ wall. The Mead Hall back on Berk was _definitely_ not this big.

"What _is_ that?" Astrid asked, pointing at the structure that they seemed to be heading towards. She looked to Heather for answer, but she just shrugged.

"My ladies have never seen a castle before?" the man questioned from the front.

Astrid almost snorted at being called "Lady," but she stopped herself. That would be undignified.

Heather cocked her head. "A what now?"

"If you truly are who you claim to be, you used to live there," the woman explained from behind. "The home and fortress of the chief."

"Uh…" Heather didn't seem to have the ability to close her mouth after, so Astrid reached over with her free hand and gently pushed up and under her chin, closing it for her.

The closer they got to the castle, the finer the buildings became: larger and more skillfully made and not so squished together. Many of these larger buildings had gardens. The crowd also thinned, and what people she did see outside were wearing nicer clothing than the people they'd seen earlier.

"People actually _live_ here?" Heather asked in plain astonishment, gesturing around her. "What do they need all the space for?"

"The bigger the home, the higher the status. Many of the council members and religious leaders live in this district," the woman answered.

"But what do they even put in there?" Astrid asked. "Or is it just a bunch of empty rooms?"

The woman chuckled. "Certainly not empty, Lady Astrid. Many rooms for relaxation and leisure."

"But you could fit three or four families in these houses!" Astrid exclaimed, astonished. It seemed like a waste of space to her.

"As I said, those with a higher status live in much bigger homes."

Astrid could do nothing but mouth "holy shit." She made sure not to say it out loud though. Didn't want these people to get the wrong impression of her. She felt… less, being here, surrounded by people dressed better than her and buildings so big that she didn't even know what they were called. And Heather had been supposed to grow up here? This was supposed to be her home? She glanced at her, but her friend was looking at everything else with wide-eyed astonishment.

There were no more people to hinder them as they approached the gates of the castle, just an open expanse of cobblestone. The gates weren't wooden like they were outside. They looked to be made of iron or steel. They were guarded by four people, two on each side, in armor that seemed to be uniform.

"Afternoon, Garth," one of them greeted in a gruff voice.

The man that had been leading them, apparently Garth, waved and said hello.

"Who do you have there?" another one of the guards asked, this one female. It was hard to tell under all that armor and the helmet, but the voice was telling.

"You're certainly in for a surprise," Garth said. He stepped aside so that he wasn't blocking Heather and Astrid, and they quickly let go of each other's hands. Nobody seemed to notice. He gestured to Heather. "She claims to be the daughter of former chief Oswald and she wishes to see the council."

That was met with silence. The guards' faces were hard to read. Finally, one of them, a man, spoke.

"It's not my place to confirm your identity, and your intentions seem peaceful." The other guards looked to each other and nodded a little.

"You may enter," the woman from before spoke. "But we ask that you please leave your weapons with us."

"Of course," Heather answered almost instantly, no doubt wanting this to go as smoothly as possible. She took her axe from her back and held it out towards them. Astrid sensed trepidation from her, and she felt the same. No weapon in a new place surrounded by strangers? It didn't make her feel good at all. But, she pulled her axe from the loop in her belt.

"That is an _incredible_ axe!" one of the guards commented to Heather. He took it with reverence. "Where on Thor's good green Earth did you get it?"

Heather blushed a little. "Um, I made it."

Of course Astrid's axe was taken with a lot less of a commotion, but that was okay with her. She tried to keep her hands from clenching into fists when she no longer had it. She felt naked without it.

 _No, we're fine,_ she told herself. _Completely fine. These people are nicer than I imagined._

Then they were let in through the gates, Garth and the female guard from the docks still with them. The castle wasn't immediately in front of them; rather, a large garden with flowers of all sorts in beautiful arrangements.

Astrid felt a little relieved when she realized that the doors to the castle weren't as large as those to Mead Hall. Close, but not quite.

There were even more guards positioned at those doors, just up a few smooth steps, but the little party was let in without a fuss. They entered a hallway lined with glass-paned windows on one side, the floor covered by a dark blue carpet. Astrid found herself sneaking her hand back into Heather's intimidated by being in this place. The other woman intertwined her fingers with hers without even looking at her.

"We'll escort you to a sitting room where you'll wait while the council is gathered," the woman, now walking in front with Garth, informed them. "It should take about an hour or so."

_That's a long time to wait._

"Thank you very much for all of this," Heather said.

"Of course, m'lady," Garth replied. "I'm certain that the council will accept your identity."

That at least was a hopeful statement.

They walked through more hallways, passing by all different types of people. Some were evidently more guards, while others, Astrid couldn't quite figure out despite the clothing types. She didn't think now was the time to ask though.

Finally, they were led through a wooden door into a room that looked out into the gardens and was filled with bright light. It was larger than Astrid's own bedroom, with fur rugs upon the stone floor and cushioned chairs and couches. There was a tapestry upon one wall depicting a waterfall.

"Servants will be here shortly to attend you," Garth informed them. "I hope we have the opportunity of meeting again."

Before either Astrid or Heather could say anything, the two guards left and the door was closed behind them.

"Servants?" Astrid questioned, looking to Heather. That wasn't a word she was familiar with.

Heather scrunched up her face in thought. "Um, I kind of remember something. I think they work for royalty and nobility or something. Do stuff for them, like cooking and cleaning and all that."

"They can't just do that themselves?"

"Guess it's too simple of a task for them or something," Heather answered. Leading Astrid by the hand, she took her to one of the couches and sat down. Astrid had no choice but to follow.

She bounced a little. "Wow, this is soft."

"Yeah." Heather was sitting on the edge of the couch, body tense.

"Hey, Heather, we made it this far," Astrid told her. When her friend didn't look at her, she gently took her chin and made her, meeting her terrified green eyes. "We're on Berzerk and we're actually in the castle. That's big. And Garth said he was sure that the council would accept you."

Heather gave her a grateful smile. "Yeah, I know. It's just, what am I even going to say to them?"

"Well, why not just see what they ask you first, okay?"

"Okay." She nodded a little. "You're right, Astrid. Thank you." She suddenly hugged her, squeezing tight and chasing Astrid's breath away for a second or two. She smiled a little, hugging back.

Once they separated, the door opened, and a dark haired woman who looked to be younger than them entered, wearing a simple white robe with the Berserker crest embroidered on the breast in purple. She actually bowed a little upon entering.

"Excuse me, my ladies, but I've been sent to attend you. Would you like anything to drink? Tea, wine…?"

"Um, I'll have tea, thank you," Astrid responded, not used to this type of behavior.

"Me as well, please," Heather said.

"Of course." The woman, a servant apparently, went to leave, but Heather stopped her.

"Wait! What's your name?"

She turned, looking a little startled.

"My… name?"

Heather nodded.

"Uh, Mæva. My name is Mæva." With that, she left.

"That was weird," Astrid commented. "Do people usually not care what a servant's name is?"

"How should I know? I hardly remember anything about this place." Heather looked back at the door. "I almost wish I said I wanted wine instead. Could help with my nerves."

"But you want to be sharp and alert when speaking with the council," Astrid pointed out. She wouldn't dream of drinking anything remotely alcoholic in a place that she was new to.

They were silent for some time, and Heather was just looking down at the floor.

"Do you think any of this is worth it?"

"Hmm?" Astrid had vanished into her own thoughts for a moment and hadn't heard what Heather had said.

"All this," Heather responded, gesturing around her. "Do you think it's actually worth it?"

"It'll certainly be worth it once we have the Berserkers behind us," Astrid assured her. "Besides, we can't back out of it now." She was understanding Heather's feeling though. She knew how important this task was, but a part of her wanted to be searching for Hiccup and killing anyone or anything that got in her way.

"I just… I don't know." She sounded so unsure of herself.

Astrid placed a hand on Heather's shoulder and squeezed. "Heather, you can do this. I believe in you."

 

 

The council hall was large, mainly lit by torches and braziers. Much of the space was taken up by a long, polished wooden table and high-backed chairs. At the end opposite the doors was an ornately carved wooden chair upon a small dais. That must have been her father's chair, and then Dagur's after him.

Heather had been grateful that they allowed Astrid to come with her to this meeting, though she would have preferred that she be allowed to stand next to her. Her friend was sitting next to one of the council members while she was made to stand in front at the end of the table in front of the throne. It felt like it was looming over her, reminding her of how important this was.

The council was made up of ten people, most of them middle aged, but a couple of them older with wrinkles and pure white hair. Looking at all these unfamiliar faces, of whose names she didn't know, Heather was scared. She'd never done anything remotely like this before. She looked to Astrid, who snuck her a little thumbs-up. She took a deep breath.

"We are gathered here this evening because this woman claims to be the daughter of Oswald the Agreeable," one of the council members, a dignified-looking older woman, began. "And that isn't something to be taken lightly. She stands before us to give proof to this claim."

Heather's palms were sweating, but she refused to wipe them on her clothes.

"So, where should I start?" she asked them, at a complete loss. She wasn't entirely sure of what information they wanted from her.

"How about by telling us about your adoptive family," the woman answered gently, seeming to understand how afraid she was. She seemed to be the main spokesperson. "What tribe you were a part of and such."

"Okay." Heather nodded, felt sadness creeping up through her chest. She loved her parents and she missed them dearly, would never be able to rid the images of their deaths from her mind. This was going to be hard.

She told them the name of her tribe – well, what had been her tribe until Dagur had wiped it out – and of her family and anyone she could remember, using as many names as possible. The council accepted that information without question, remembering that they had been at war with them and the way Oswald had ended it: giving her to them as a peace offering. Then she was asked to tell more of her story and how she had ended up here, which resulted in her telling about the genocide of her tribe and her hunt for Dagur that took her years. She kept any mention of dragons out of it, knew that they weren't ready for that kind of information at the moment. She talked of her friendship with Hiccup, a name that they all knew since he was Stoick's son, and how he had stopped her from killing Dagur and had told her that she was his sister, which he had learned from his father when he confronted him about the chief seal on her horn. She ended her story at Dagur confirming this, not wanting to get into anything about the Dragon Hunters at the moment. That could wait for the time being.

Heather didn't realize it until she was finished, but her chest was aching and her face was wet with tears, her hands balled into fists. Never before had she talked about all of this in such detail. She felt vulnerable and exposed, because now all these strangers knew her life story, knew the horrors she had seen and the struggles she had gone through.

The woman that had spoken to her before beckoned to a guard that stood by the door.

"Please escort these two women back to the sitting room while we discuss this," she said to him. He nodded, then gestured for her and Astrid to follow. The room was silent as they left, and Astrid took her arm.

Heather broke down into sobs once they were left alone, hadn't realized that she'd been holding them in the whole time. Astrid pulled her into her arms, stroking one hand over her back.

"You did so well in there, Heather," she told her gently. "You did good. Really good."

She couldn't find the breath to respond, couldn't calm herself either. She hadn't cried in a very long time, but the recent, unwavering stress and talking about the losses she'd dealt with had finally all crashed down on her and she couldn't stop it. She just had to let it out, and she was glad that Astrid was the only one with her at the moment, that she was the one holding her and comforting her.

It took a while, but soon Heather's sobs had died down into tiny little sniffles. She nuzzled her head into Astrid's neck, comforted by her warmth and her smell.

"Thank you, Astrid," she breathed. "I'm glad you're here."

"I'm glad I'm here too, Heather. Now come on. Sit up and let me wipe your face."

She nodded against her, then straightened. She actually smiled a little when Astrid began wiping her tears away with her sleeve. Astrid smiled back.

She hadn't noticed before due to her crying session, but the sun was setting, dimming the light in the room and turning it orange.

"I hope they'll finish soon or we'll be left in the dark," Heather commented.

"Yeah. Wouldn't want that. And I'm kind of hungry too."

"What do you think Windshear and Stormfly are up to?"

"Seeing as it's getting dark, they probably snuck off the ship and went to a quiet part of the island to get some dinner," Astrid answered. "But they should be back at the ship by morning, and we can tell everyone all about the dragons and then go get them."

"You're suddenly confident about this," Heather noted. Astrid had finished wiping her face clean.

"Yeah, well, if you could have seen yourself in there, you'd be more confident about it too," Astrid told her. "You were amazing."

There was suddenly a knock on the door before a guard poked his head in.

"My ladies, the council wishes to see you now."

A new burst of anxiety started in Heather's stomach, but she somehow made herself stand and walk over to the door, Astrid beside her. Her legs were almost shaking.

They were silent as they were led back to the council hall, and Astrid was holding her hand again. She was thankful for the comfort she was providing her.

Heather was shocked by the sight before her when she entered the council hall. Every member was standing, fists pressed over their hearts. Her gasp was quite obvious.

Then they all bent over in a bow as one, the spokeswoman saying: "Welcome home, Heather, daughter of Oswald." They straightened, all looking right at her. The woman continued. "In the absence of any other leader, you are now officially appointed as chief of the Berserkers."


	14. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are, back at where the prologue left us.

Hiccup was shoved to his knees on the ground, a firm hand on each of his shoulders to keep him there. He was surprised to find that he was kneeling on a fur rug, but then deduced that they must have entered a tent, and a rather large one at that.

He was disoriented, still blindfolded, and trying to recover from being carried around like he weighed nothing. He had given up struggling quite a while ago. He knew when he had lost.

“Found this one wandering about, my lord,” a gruff voice above his head spoke. He unintentionally yelped as a hard kick landed in his back, the breath being chased out of him.

“Now, now. Let go of him. He can’t possibly go anywhere blindfolded.” 

Hiccup tried not to flinch at that voice that was trying to make itself sound sweet. He’d heard it one too many times for his liking, and he knew that he was definitely in for something bad now. He was released and he straightened his back, trying to refill his lungs.

 _And how do I get out of this mess?_

“Out for a little midnight stroll, were we, Hiccup?”

“Yeah, just wanted to stretch my legs,” he responded, directing his head to the sound of that voice. He was trying his best to hide his panic.

“ _Leg,_ ” the other man corrected, then ordered: “Take it.”

Hiccup was suddenly shoved onto his stomach and there was a tugging on his leg, just below his knee.

“Ow!” His prosthetic was ripped off of the stump of his left leg. Despair fell like a stone into his stomach. There would be no escaping now.

“Interesting little contraption, isn’t it? Seems pretty useful, huh, Hiccup?”

He still lay on the ground, unable to get up without the use of his arms. Besides, he’d rather be like this than kneeling to him. He already felt hopeless enough as it was. It didn’t have to be added to.

Hiccup bit back the coming tears of frustration and helplessness, determined not to cry in front of this man. He would only take pleasure in it.

“Especially when I use it to kick people in the face, _Dagur_ ,” Hiccup responded after a breath to collect himself. He stressed the name on purpose, enjoying the image in his head of kicking Dagur’s face in. “Or how about the - ack!” 

He didn’t get to finish, as there was suddenly a hand in his hair, yanking his head up and putting strain on his neck. Dagur’s face felt much too close to his for his liking. His breath was hot and smelled like peppermint, as if he had just rinsed out his mouth.

“You know, Hiccup, if you’re a good boy I might consider giving this back. But any more of this” - he tugged painfully on his hair for emphasis - “and I get to keep it. Understand?”

Hiccup didn’t say a word, not sure how to respond. The part of him that was still fighting would have liked to say something rude, but the logical, (or maybe fearful,) side thought better of it.

“Yes, I understand, Dagur!” The man’s imitation of his voice was high-pitched and annoying, and he tugged his head up and down to force a nod. Then he went on to laugh in that way of his that proved that something in his head had definitely become unhinged in a windstorm. It started by sounding like a mix between a shriek and a howl, and then lowered to what sounded sort of like un-amused sobbing.

Hiccup visibly flinched as the man suddenly growled right in his face, nose almost touching his.

“Say. It.” His command was terse and angry, like he was on the verge of some mental breakdown, which could be very likely in his case. Hiccup didn’t want to give in, but he would have to if he didn’t want Dagur to go into a fit while he still gripped his hair.

“Yes, I understand, Dagur,” Hiccup muttered sullenly.

“Good.” He shoved his face roughly into the carpet and stood.

“What do you want us to do with him, sir?” one of the soldiers asked.

“Stand him up.” His voice was once again calm, as if nothing had even happened. “Well, as best as you can anyway.” Hiccup didn’t have to see to know that there was a maniacal grin on Dagur’s face. His hands were shaking, but at least Dagur wouldn’t see, bound behind his back as they were.

He was hauled up to stand on his one foot. His lips trembled a little and his body felt hot and cold at the same time. His heart beat fast and loud in his chest. He knew Dagur was going to hurt him, and the anticipation was worse because he couldn’t see when he planned to, didn’t get a second to brace himself or know when it was coming.

Now, apparently. A powerful punch landed in his stomach and he doubled over with a choking sound, trying to find his breath. The pain was bad, and if insides could be bruised, his were definitely bruised.

Hiccup was pulled up straight again before he got a chance to breathe properly.

“I have you treated nicely, yet you still try to get away. That hurts my feelings, Hiccup.” Dagur hit again in the same spot. He grunted and groaned, tears stinging at the corners of his eyes, wetting the blindfold a little. 

“And you almost made all my hard work to get you here go to waste!”

Hiccup was hit a third time and he released a strangled cry, the burning _snap_ in his abdomen proving that Dagur had hit a rib. The man didn’t let him be straightened this time and knocked him hard in the chin with a wordless shout of anger, snapping his head back.

“Let him go,” Dagur suddenly ordered. A cruel laugh bubbled up, but died down before it could get out of control. 

The soldiers did as he ordered and Hiccup crumpled to his knees, gasping, each breath more painful than the last. He hadn’t noticed that the blindfold was wet till now, tears of pain and despair flowing freely.

Dagur _gently_ cupped Hiccup’s bruised chin. He took in a painful gasp of utter shock, tears stopping almost instantly. Gentle wasn’t in Dagur’s vocabulary, not that he knew of anyway.

“Aw, poor Hiccup. Poor crying Hiccup.”

The taunting voice grated on his nerves and stoked anger inside of him. If only he could use it.

Then the man literally _stroked_ his thumb across his jawline. Hiccup couldn’t breathe. His insides were twisting. Dagur - Dagur the Deranged, Cracker of Skulls, Slayer of Beasts, the Great and Fearsome, et cetera, et cetera - was capable of being gentle.

“It’s okay, brother,” Dagur crooned, stroking his jawline again. Hiccup tugged his head away from his fingers. “I’ll help you.”

Hiccup shook his head wildly as he felt Dagur’s hands go behind his head. He was sure he was going to do something painful to him, maybe even snap his neck and end it all, (which he preferred at this point,) but neither of those things happened. After some struggling on Dagur’s part, the damp blindfold was pulled off his face and he was left blinking to adjust to the light that came from a couple of lanterns. 

“Guessing that’s not what you expected,” said Dagur thoughtfully, who was crouched in front of him to be at eye level. “But believe it or not, Hiccup,” he reached a hand out for his face, “I can be kind.”

Angered, confused, and terrified, Hiccup snapped at his fingers, but Dagur yanked his hand back before he could bite him. The exchange ended with them both glaring at each other, daring the other to back down first.

Neither did, really, but Dagur lifted his head to look at his soldiers. Hiccup’s glare just followed.

“Untie him.”

“ _What?_ ”

Unlike Hiccup, Dagur’s soldiers asked no questions, and soon the rope around his wrists was loosened and removed. During this, Dagur stood and began pacing.

Hiccup rubbed at his chafed wrists, watching Dagur uneasily, wondering what he could possibly be planning on doing next. He could faintly hear the red-haired man humming to himself. Dread filled his stomach.

“I-I don’t understand,” Hiccup admitted.

“Oh, I just thought this next bit would be more fun if you had your arms!” Dagur stopped and turned to Hiccup excitedly. The smile that spread his lips and tugged at the scars on his face sent a shiver up his spine.

Hiccup quickly looked around the tent, wondering once again if he could get out of this. He felt sick. The walls of the tent were made out of various dragon hides, and all sorts of weapons were scattered on the floor around the edges of the tent, creating a barrier. A table and an ornate wooden chair sat at the end opposite Hiccup. He was obviously in Dagur’s command tent. 

“I can see your mind working, Hiccup,” Dagur teased, and his attention snapped back to him. “Trying to find a way out.” He leaned down and abruptly curled a hand in his tunic, pulling him up a little. Hiccup helplessly scrabbled at his fingers, eyes wide with fear.

But Dagur’s attention was drawn away from him, and it seemed like he had forgotten his soldiers still milling about in the entrance of the tent, unsure of what to do.

“Well?!” Dagur snapped, giving Hiccup a shake. The dragon rider clutched at his fingers and closed his eyes, startled at the sudden outburst. “What are you all doing? Get out!” 

There was a sudden commotion of hurried apologies, shuffling feet, and clanking armor, and then they were gone. Hiccup didn’t know whether or not to be relieved.

“Sorry about that,” Dagur apologized. It was hardly sincere. “Forgot about our little audience.”

Hiccup was trembling, eyes squeezed shut, refusing to look at him. It felt like his body had frozen and he couldn’t move. This was a nightmare. He was pretty sure he had had a nightmare like this once. He ashamedly felt like he was about to start crying again.

 _No, Hiccup,_ he schooled himself. _Get yourself together. Breathe. Just breathe and you can get through this._

He drew in a deep breath through his nose, no matter how it hurt his broken rib. He opened his eyes to look at Dagur, any chance of tears now gone. He could endure whatever was coming. He was sure he could.

Dagur appeared to be surprised at the sudden ferocity in his green eyes. His grip loosened a little, but then tightened again, lips curling into a sneer. Hiccup had it in him to give him a smirk.

“Insolent, little-” Dagur muttered angrily, but didn’t finish.

No matter how dangerous it was to get on this man’s nerves, Hiccup couldn’t help but feel a slight sense of victory. He had managed to take him by surprise and upset him, just with a look.

Hiccup choked as Dagur’s grip suddenly went to his neck and he was pulled close to the other man’s face. He glared at him while still fighting to make him loosen his grip.

“I knew this would be more fun if you had your arms.” He ducked his head in to-

Hiccup wanted to scream, but couldn’t, lips trapped by Dagur’s. Horror clenched his stomach and he thrashed wildly, weakly hitting him in the chest in an attempt to make him let go, eyes wide. The scraggly red beard that scratched at his face drove home the reality of what was happening to him. He managed to scream in his throat, continued pounding uselessly on his breastplate with clenched fists. Dagur brought up his other hand to tightly hold the back of his head and keep him there. His fingers tightened painfully around his neck, killing his voice.

He was relieved when Dagur pulled away, left gasping for breath and feeling like he was going to throw up. He felt so violated, and his lips felt like they had been tainted. He had been expecting this, but now he wasn’t so sure if he could endure the rest.

“Oh-ho-ho!” Dagur broke into an insane, pleased laugh, looking like he was ready to jump up and down in excitement, like a little kid on his birthday. “ _Man_ , Hiccup! I’ve been waiting _years_ to do that!”

Hiccup was going to say something, wanted to somehow hold up with his sarcastic responses in an act of defiance, but Dagur’s lips closed around his again, and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut. He pushed and shoved against his chest, though he knew it was useless, knew the Berserker chief was enjoying his struggles, which was exactly why he had been untied.

Then he decided he should try fighting back with his teeth, tried maneuvering his mouth so that he would have something to bite on. Dagur probably interpreted it as him kissing back, as his hold on him was released and he took his face in his large, rough hands.

Hiccup grunted as Dagur forced his tongue into his mouth. He clenched his teeth down, but it had only been a quick swipe, so as to avoid being bitten.

Tears welled up again, but he didn’t bother to hold them back. The salty droplets slid freely down his cheeks to wet Dagur’s fingers. The man was acting as if he was trying to passionately and ferociously swallow him. Hiccup tried biting him again, but Dagur was quicker, and there was a sharp pain in his bottom lip and the taste of blood. 

Hiccup tried once again to pull his head back as Dagur took it upon himself to suck at the wound, and he reacted by moving his right hand to pinch at the back of his neck. 

Maybe shaking his head would break the contact, but Dagur just bit him again, tugging insistently on his stinging bottom lip.

It seemed like an eternity before Dagur pulled away again. He locked eyes with Hiccup, his bright with maniacal glee and madness. Hiccup’s held horror, disgust, and shock.

“That was fun, wasn’t it, Hiccup?”

“No, Dagur. Please, I-”

His protests were cut off as the Berserker chief kissed him again.


	15. Chapter 14

Hiccup was once again blindfolded and his hands bound, and then hefted over one of Dagur’s broad shoulders. The movement hurt his broken rib and it took a moment to remember how to breathe.

His heart raced madly as he was taken through the camp. He was sure he was being taken to Dagur’s personal tent, and his stomach twisted. He knew what was about to happen to him.

_Oh gods, oh gods. How do I get out of this?_

He squirmed a little, and that just made Dagur tighten his grip on him. 

“You’re being unusually quiet,” Dagur commented in a conversational tone.

“Yeah, well, just making a list of potential things to call you,” Hiccup responded, voice stronger than he had expected it to be. “Would you like to hear it?”

Dagur laughed a little. “You're too funny, Hiccup.”

“Let’s see,” Hiccup continued, though his next words would certainly have consequences. “Despicable, delusional, demented, uh… disturbing, de-”

The response he got was not the one he had expected. Dagur stopped and let loose a genuine laugh, jostling Hiccup in the process. It climbed into a shriek before it gradually died down.

“Aw, man, I’m gonna love having you around.” 

Hiccup grunted as he was repositioned on Dagur’s shoulder, and then the man started off again. It wasn’t long before Hiccup heard the sound of tent flaps. They were inside.

His heart went into his throat and his stomach dropped. Even his lungs stopped working for an instant. He felt like he might faint. That could work to his advantage. It would hold this off longer.

Against his own logic, he started kicking his one foot and thrashing wildly. The chieftain gave a discontented growl and flipped him onto the ground on his back. Still blindfolded, Hiccup was flopping around like a fish, trying to land a blow somewhere, panic taking over his senses and making him lose track of where Dagur was.

It was then that he heard laughter at a distance from him. Dagur had apparently moved away from him to watch his ridiculous thrashing. Hiccup gave up once he realized this, stopped to catch his breath. He was about to sit up, but there was a weight on him, shoving him back down onto the carpeted floor.

Soon he could see again, the tent lit dimly by a nearby lantern. It was around the same size as the command tent, made out of canvas rather than dragon hides. That was a relief at least. What was not relieving was the fact that Dagur was straddling him, a hungry look in his eyes and a sickly grin on his lips.

Hiccup flinched and made a sound of disgust in his throat as Dagur ran a large hand over his stomach and chest. The man looked like he was in awe, like he was suddenly realizing that his twisted fantasy was coming true. It made Hiccup want to be sick. He squirmed, wishing his hands were not bound behind him.

“Oh gods, Hiccup, how I’ve wanted to touch you,” Dagur breathed, rubbing up his body with both his hands. Hiccup’s breathing was fast and shallow, eyes wide. He felt so violated, and though he still had his tunic, the skin underneath felt tainted, as if Dagur’s fingers soaked black oil into his pores.

“None of your usual quips, huh?” He reached for Hiccup’s face but he twisted his head away, working his knees to try to get Dagur off of him. 

“Stop. _Moving!_ ” The shout was right in his face, Dagur’s hands tight on his shoulders. He squeezed his eyes shut, too terrified to look him in the eye. He had no choice but to listen to him.

“That’s better.” His voice had grown calm in an instant. Hiccup drew in a gasp as he cupped his face and stroked his chin with his thumb. “There, there, Hiccup. I’ll get to the fun part, don’t worry.”

Hiccup definitely didn’t want Dagur to get to the _fun part_ , but he was helpless. There was nothing he could do about it. He felt like he was living in a nightmare. He wished it was one, so that he could wake up next to Astrid and she could soothe him back to sleep. Toothless would come and sleep beside him to guard his dreams, give him a sympathetic expression and a soft cooing sound.

“Oh gods, Dagur, please don’t.” The words came out of his mouth before he even really thought about it. 

“I don’t see any reason _not_ to.” 

Hiccup refused to open his eyes, tried drawing his face back as Dagur spoke much too close to his lips for his liking. 

“I mean, I have you here.” He gave him a quick peck before he continued, and Hiccup scrunched up his face in disgust. “My prisoner. Completely helpless. Completely vulnerable and weakened.” He moved his hand to his chest, pressed his lips to his again, willing Hiccup to respond, but he would do no such thing. Dagur quickly gave up on that, but he was sure he would try again later. “Completely mine.”

_Oh gods, oh gods._

Hiccup’s body was rigid as Dagur’s hands crept up under his tunic. His hands were rough and warm, and just plain _wrong._ It should be Astrid’s hands with her tiny calloused fingers. He made no movement other than drawing in a shuddering breath that hurt his broken rib. Perhaps if he didn’t react, Dagur would lose interest.

The man took his sweet time about reaching his chest, his touch making Hiccup’s skin crawl and sending goose bumps rippling over his body. He remained still though, jaw tightly set, everything locked in place.

That was, until Dagur pinched hard at his right nipple. His eyes opened wide and he drew in a large, pained gasp. The man was giving him a twisted smile.

“Clever idea, not moving. But it won't work, because I’m going to make you squirm.” He pinched him again and Hiccup released a cry, twisting underneath him. A growl ran through Dagur’s throat and then his hands were in his hair, gripping and tugging, pulling his head back.

Hiccup drew in a shocked breath as Dagur’s lips touched his neck. He felt so vulnerable as the man began to run his open mouth over his throat and he closed his eyes again. Seeing it only made it worse. Dagur had his eyes open and he could feel his gaze shift to his face every once in a while. He was probably trying to get a reaction out of him.

“Gotta have a sensitive spot somewhere,” Dagur muttered to himself, lips pressed against his skin. One hand was gently running through his hair, the other still holding his head back. 

Hiccup shifted underneath him, terribly uncomfortable. If Dagur kept searching his neck he would find it. He was disgusted by the fact that his touch felt good, that he was even touching him in the first place. His stomach clenched.

“Hmm…” Dagur mused before sucking on his adam’s apple. Hiccup gasped at the pleasurable sensation, tried jerking away from it.

“Oh, you like it there, do you?” Dagur seemed very pleased with himself for discovering this and sucked even harder. 

“ _Ah…_ ” Hiccup was ashamed of the sound, wished that Dagur was hurting him rather than pleasing him. It would be a lot less confusing to his body and emotions.

“Dagur, st-stop.” He twisted his head, but his grip just tightened in his hair. However, one hand had released him and was trailing down his body. His breaths came in heavy, terrified pants. 

_Please no. Please._

Dagur released him and straightened, placing one hand on Hiccup’s chest to hold him there. The other dug down between them and Hiccup turned his head away, eyes still closed. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't _actually_ be happening.

A pleased, yet frightened whimper left his lips of its own accord as Dagur roughly drew his palm over his crotch. His body began to feel aroused at the touch, quite the opposite of how the rest of him was feeling. He made a choking sound as Dagur did it again, but harder this time. The friction felt so good, but it shouldn't have. How could his body betray him like this?

His hips bucked upwards as Dagur drove his hand down again, a whimper rising from his throat. There were tears in his eyes, tears of terror, disgust, and disbelief. Yet his body and voice continued to act separately from his thoughts.

“Feels good, right?” The hand that was on Hiccup’s chest moved up to his neck. His grip would definitely leave bruises, but it wasn't totally restricting his breathing.

“N-No,” Hiccup stuttered, shaking. “Get off of me.”

“Make me,” Dagur retorted, humor in his voice. They both knew that Hiccup could do nothing to stop this.

Without warning, Dagur suddenly yanked Hiccup’s pants down, revealing his traitorously erect member. Hiccup squirmed under his weight.

“Please don't, please don't.”

“Please what?” Dagur asked teasingly. “Didn't hear that last part.”

“Please don't.” Hiccup’s voice was stronger this time, but he still couldn't bring himself to turn his head back or look at him.

“Please _do_.”

Hiccup screamed when Dagur touched him, screamed loudly in unadulterated terror. He thrashed and kicked, but the chieftain still held him in his hand. He wanted to die, wanted to set his skin on fire to remove the taint of Dagur’s touch. 

Dagur's shrieking laughter mingled with his shouts, and his hand pumped up and down over his cock. Hiccup’s screams turned to sobs, and he strained to get away from this touch. It felt good, felt incredibly good, though every fiber of his being resented this, though his insides felt like they were retreating from that touch. He felt sick and scared and violated, but his nerves were telling him that it felt good.

“ _Dagur…_ ” He was so confused, so hurt. He wanted everything to stop. He wished for the man to tighten his hold on his neck, make him stop breathing and kill him without meaning too. That would be much better than this.

Hiccup was crying as the Berserker continued his rough ministrations. He was so ashamed, so vulnerable. What had he ever done to deserve this?

His sobs died into whimpers and moans. He squirmed underneath Dagur, trying to get into a position where he might be able to have some sort of advantage. His blood ran hot and cold at the same time. 

“Now, now, Hiccup, be good for Dagur.” He pressed down on his neck, squeezed hard on his dick. This only made him struggle more. He didn't care if he ended up hurting himself: he had to get away from this.

 _Maybe he’ll let go of me if I pretend to cooperate._ It was a horrible idea, but it might just end up working.

Hiccup went still and forced his tense muscles to relax. If he relaxed, maybe Dagur would too.

He steeled himself for what he was about to do, then bucked into his hand like he was enjoying it. Dagur’s hold was loosening on his neck.

_Come on, just let go of me._

Hiccup did it again, exaggerating the moan that passed his lips. 

“See?” Dagur seemed on the verge of laughter. “Not so bad, is it?”

 _It's fucking terrible, you creep._ He wisely kept his thoughts to himself. He was relieved as Dagur’s fingers were no longer wrapped around his neck and were instead stroking up and down his throat. He tilted his head back and sighed, thrusting into his hand once again. This caused Dagur to release the hold he had on him with his knees. Now it would be much easier to throw him off.

Without any warning of what he was about to do, Hiccup wrenched his whole body to the side, throwing Dagur - who gave a surprised cry - off of him. It hurt, but he was soon free from his grasp, on his stomach rather than his back.

He wormed away from him, hands working at the rope that tied them together. He didn't have any plan after this. He just had to get away.

_Come on, almost loose! Thought Dagur would tie a better knot than this._

Hiccup’s attempt at escape was halted as a hand suddenly drove his face down into the fur carpet. He thrashed around, still trying to undo his bonds.

“Where do you think _you’re_ going?” Dagur seethed from somewhere above him. He pressed harder on his face and a pain started in his jaw. “Why can't you just cooperate?!”

Hiccup was able to locate where his voice was coming from, and he kicked out with his foot, hitting him in the back of the knee. Dagur cursed and lost his balance, toppling over to join him on the floor. 

A victorious smile lit his face as he was able to slide his hands free from the rope. He quickly put himself away and began to crawl for the entrance as fast as he could. He wished he had his prosthetic.

He only made it so far before Dagur tackled him back down and rolled him onto his back. Hiccup managed to get a punch in, was going to go for another one, but Dagur caught him by the wrist. It suddenly hit him, looking at his small wrist in his large hand, that this man could snap him in two with hardly an issue.

Dagur beat his other fist at his face and Hiccup gave a cry as he struck him just above his right eye. He tried fighting with his hands, but another blow landed on his face. His head fell back into the ground and he yelped, blood beginning to flow from one of his nostrils. He aimed his free hand to hit Dagur, but that one was grabbed too. 

Yanking his head up, Hiccup butted Dagur hard in the nose. There was a snap and the chief was flailing backwards. Hiccup saw his advantage and rolled so that he was on top. He punched Dagur in the face while he was still clutching his bleeding nose.

“You little shit!” The Berserker’s anger seemed to give him strength, and he rolled, once again on top. There was a _shing!_ as he drew the knife at his belt. He sneered at Hiccup, the expression all the more horrifying due to the blood that smeared his face.

“Yes, _so_ much better!” Hiccup shouted, even as he brought up his arms to protect his face. “I liked you a lot more when you were just trying to kill me.”

“Kill you? I'm not trying to kill you.” He shoved Hiccup’s arms down from his face, twirled the knife in his hand. His expression was sadistic and thoughtful.

“Oh, then what’s the knife for?” Hiccup was losing his resolve again, his body aching. Blood was trying to drip down into his eye.

“You don't _really_ need your tunic, do you? It's not that cold.”

“You're persistent. I’ll give you that.” His voice was weakened. He had thought that his struggles would deter him for at least that night, that he might be able to keep his body to himself for now.

Hiccup fought to wrestle the knife out of Dagur’s hand, but the bigger man easily swatted his hands aside and sliced at his tunic. He gave a cry as he nicked his skin, but stopped struggling. He didn't want to move the wrong way and accidentally slice himself open. _That_ would be a painful way to die.

Dagur gave a victorious shout as he tore his tunic off. Hiccup resumed his struggles, but was surprised when Dagur stood. That is, until he grabbed him by the ankle and easily dragged him over to the middle of the tent, where a wooden pole stood to hold up the canvas structure.

_Great. He's gonna tie me to it._

Hiccup was incapacitated as Dagur placed a foot over his broken rib, marked by purple bruises. He gasped for air through the pain, vision blurring. Dagur twisted his foot and put more weight on it. Hiccup couldn't find the breath to scream, scrabbled weakly at that crushing foot. He twisted it again with a viscous grunt, and Hiccup heard a snapping sound that he knew had come from him. The pain came rushing into his senses soon after and he choked, tried to scream. It wasn't long after that he lost consciousness.

 

It seemed Hiccup had only been out for a minute or so, but when he woke he found himself in a sitting position, back against the pole in the middle of the tent. His hands were tied behind him around the pole. He gave the rope an experimental tug and found that it was attached to the pole. It was much tighter than it had been before, chafing at his skin.

“Comfortable, Hiccup?” Dagur asked sarcastically. 

He swiveled his head around to find the source of the voice. Dagur stood nearby beside a cot, breastplate and other armor removed. He wore a sleeveless green tunic and a belt that cinched in his waist, which he began to remove. He had washed off his face while he was out, the blood gone, but his nose bruised and swollen. Hiccup took pride in that. He had managed to hurt him.

Though, it wasn't much compared to the world of hurt he was in. Two of his ribs were broken now - he was sure of it - his bottom lip was split and throbbing, the blood beginning to dry. He had a horrible ache behind his right eye and he could feel that blood crusted his brow bone. His nose was sore and bloodied as well.

“Yeah,” Hiccup responded, the simple act of speaking now made painful. “I think you forgot to break some of my ribs though.”

Dagur laughed as he came over, crouched in front of him. “Always humoring me, aren't you?” He took Hiccup’s chin in a firm grip and tilted his head, examining his wounds. “Look what you made me do to your face.” He sounded disappointed. He brought up his other hand and stroked his fingers over the cut in his brow. Hiccup shuddered and tried to pull his head away, but the fingers holding him dug into his jaw. His breaths came in panting gasps.

“Stop it. Stop _touching_ me!” Hiccup managed to wrench his head away and he set a glare on the Berserker. “You're sick, Dagur! Sick and depraved a-” he was cut off as Dagur's hand went over his mouth. His eyes had narrowed in frustration.

“How about we put that big mouth of yours to something useful.”

Hiccup shook his head wildly, was going to bite Dagur’s hand but he pulled away and stood.

_No, no, no._

Hiccup closed his eyes tight and clenched his jaw hard. He couldn't let this happen to him. 

There was a rustle of clothing, and then Hiccup felt something close to his mouth. He turned his head away, pressed himself against the pole. Tears spilled down his cheeks and he was shaking almost violently. 

His head was suddenly wrenched the other way, Dagur's fingers bruising his jaw. The man gave an irritated growl as he tried fighting. Then he pinched his nose, cutting off his air supply.

Dagur laughed as he thrashed and kicked. Hiccup refused to open his mouth. It would be better to let himself faint from loss of air. His lungs ached and protested, but he ground his teeth down. 

“Come on, Hiccup.” Dagur sang. “Don't be so stubborn. Open wide.”

His movements were growing weaker and his lungs were screaming, but he continued to hold out. He wouldn't allow this to happen to him.

There was a strange sound in his throat as his body desperately tried to take a breath. His chest heaved as his lungs tried to find air. 

“Don't you want to breathe? It would be so easy,” Dagur coaxed. “All you would have to do is open your mouth.”

Hiccup wanted to so desperately. His body was hurting and protesting. 

_No, no!_

But he couldn't take it anymore, and took a huge breath in through his mouth. Then another one, and another. He was left gasping for a couple of seconds before the hold on his nose was released and something went past his lips.

_Oh gods, no._

“If you bite me, I’ll cut off one of your fingers,” Dagur warned.

Hiccup cringed, but didn't otherwise move. Dagur was a person who would follow through on his threats. He just breathed heavily through his nose, tried to will away the taste in his mouth. His cheeks were wet with tears and he fought down a sob. 

“There’s a good boy, Hiccup.” And then Dagur drove his dick into his mouth. He gagged, tried turning his head, but there was suddenly a hand in his hair that kept him in place. His scalp stung from all of the mistreatment it was receiving.

“Let’s see how far down your throat I can go,” Dagur said cheerfully as if this was some sort of game to him. Adrenaline erupted from his core and made his body hot and his insides churn. 

Dagur surged forwards, hit the back of his throat, and then kept going. Hiccup choked and gagged, his throat convulsing to try to rid itself of this foreign object. 

“ _Oh-h-h, yes…_ ” Dagur grunted, pushed forward more, pressing Hiccup’s nose against his pelvis and the hair that grew there. He forgot how to breathe, struggled weakly against the hand in his hair.

He had a fleeting moment of relief as Dagur pulled back, but he just thrust his hips forward again, hitting the same spot in this throat that he had before, choking him. Hiccup didn't think he had ever felt something so uncomfortable before.

“Mmm, yeah. You’ve got a nice mouth, Hiccup.” Dagur’s voice was gravelly and heavy with need and satisfaction. He pulled back and thrusted into his mouth again, Hiccup making a rather undignified sound in his throat. Then he did it again and a moan followed suit. He began to pick up the pace, hitting the back of his throat every time.

Hiccup fought at the rope that kept him against the pole, thrashed his body. He could no longer breathe in the face of this onslaught that was beginning to hurt his throat. He couldn't think straight.

It felt like an eternity before Dagur stopped, pulling away and leaving the both of them gasping. Hiccup released a sob, then spat on the ground, feeling utterly disgusted. He looked up at Dagur, made sure to keep his eyes away from his nether regions. 

“Fuck you.” His voice was hoarse and weak. He coughed pathetically and hung his head, then sobbed again. 

“And yourself,” Dagur responded. He knelt in front of him, making Hiccup shudder as he ran a hand over his bruised neck. He chuckled before saying, “I bet it hurts.” Hiccup made no response. A tear dripped off his nose and onto Dagur’s wrist. “But guess what? Since you're being so good right now, you get a reward! How about that?”

“If the reward is death, quit the talking and bring it on. I’ll tell Hela you said hi. Oh, wait a minute, you’ll be going to Niflheim.” Hiccup was proud of managing to keep up his usual snark despite all the abuse.

Dagur smiled, then chuckled, almost broke out into full, shrieking laughter, but then stopped, patting Hiccup on the shoulder. “You can be my consort _and_ my jester.”

Hiccup cringed at that word. “Do I have to be both?” He began to lose his nerve as Dagur leaned his head towards him, placed a kiss on his collarbone. “I-I’d rather b-be the jester.” Dagur was trailing his mouth over his bare chest, making his heart pound fast and hard. “Is there some sort of a-application I can f-fill out?” 

Dagur made no response, placing his hands over Hiccup’s thighs. He was focused on running his mouth down towards his stomach, then lower.

_Oh… no, no, no._

Hiccup was gasping. He felt like he couldn’t get enough air. He pressed himself up against the pole, squeezed his eyes shut. His body was shaking at Dagur’s touch. He arched his back as Dagur dug one hand down into his pants and revealed his member to the open air. He stroked the shaft gently, trying to arouse him again, and his body readily betrayed him. His blood boiled, nerves tingling and desperately craving that touch.

Hiccup winced as Dagur gave his dick a little tug. “Almost exactly how I imagined it.” His voice was low and gravelly. “Such a perfect size. You're kind of big, aren't you?”

“Stop,” Hiccup gasped out, trying to shift away from him, bending his right knee and getting the bottom of his foot on the ground. Dagur just took this as an invitation to run his free hand along the inside of his thigh. Hiccup tilted his head back and whimpered. He couldn’t believe how easily he was finding those spots that only Astrid was ever allowed to touch.

Then Dagur’s hand disappeared from his member, and he dared to open his eyes, finding him putting a hand on his other thigh, lowering his head. He closed them again with a cry as Dagur gave him a quick lick. His feeling of sickness mingled oddly with the pleasure that his nerves were reporting, making him a little lightheaded.

He made an odd noise - almost a mix of a grunt and a yelp - as Dagur suddenly took the head into his mouth. He guessed that this was the “reward” that he had been talking about.

Hiccup’s right foot scrabbled against the ground as Dagur sucked him into his mouth, but he was pinched on the inside of his thigh, causing him to cry out and his leg to go slack.

He twisted his head, tugged desperately at the rope, clenching his teeth to hold back any noises. He didn’t want Dagur to think that he was enjoying this. Only one part of him was, and it was acting completely separate from the rest of him.

That plan quickly failed; he breathed in a gasp, and out a moan, as Dagur set up a slow, steady rhythm of sucking him in and out of his mouth. He couldn’t deny that the heat and the wetness felt good, but he would still rather that this not be happening.

“ _Please…_ ” Hiccup whimpered. He was going to say more, plead for this to stop, but he couldn’t find the breath to. Now Dagur probably thought that he was urging him on, asking for more, when he wanted the opposite.

Apparently that’s how it had been interpreted, because his motions became more vigorous. Hiccup cried out, tried twisting his body away from it. It was awful, just so awful.

Dagur growled at his movements and squeezed his thighs hard enough to bruise. With a moan, Hiccup went still. His voice came tumbling unintentionally out of his throat as Dagur continued. He cursed his body again and again, wishing this didn’t feel so good. He would rather have physical pain than this pleasure that caused him emotional torture. That would make a lot more sense: his mind and body wouldn’t be disagreeing about the nature of what was happening if it hurt.

Dagur finally pulled his mouth off of him, leaving him gasping. His head rested against the pole and he refused to open his eyes.

“You’re very vocal,” Dagur noted, sounding pleased. Hiccup made no response, wasn’t sure how he could. His breath hitched as one of Dagur’s hands ran up his body, the other traveling over to clutch at his cock. This wasn’t over yet.

And then Dagur’s weight was heavy against him, one leg over his right one, shoulder rammed into his, torsos meeting each other. His breath was in his face, mingling with his terrified pants.

Hiccup flinched as Dagur’s cock, (it couldn’t be anything else,) came in contact with his own. The man grunted and wrapped his hand around both of them, then thrusted. 

Hiccup’s mouth fell open at the heat and the friction, tears welling up at the same time. How could _this_ be actually happening to him? 

“Oh yeah, you like that don’t you?” Dagur’s voice was right in his ear, making his skin crawl. He thrusted against him again and Hiccup groaned. He tried shaking his head, but Dagur gripped his face with his other hand, holding him still. 

“My threat about cutting off your finger still stands by the way,” Dagur warned before crushing his lips against his. His tongue fought its way into his mouth, though Hiccup tried to avoid it. The Berserker chief continued to rock into him as he explored his mouth with his tongue. Hiccup tried using his own to fight back, but this just increased the vigor of Dagur’s hip movements. Unable to help it, he moaned into his mouth. Why was his body telling him this felt good?

Dagur pulled away, gasping, hand moving to take ahold of his shoulder. 

“Go on, Hiccup. Be loud for me.”

Hiccup bit his lip and shook his head. He wouldn’t do anything to intentionally please this lunatic.

With a grunt of determination, Dagur was grinding against him harder, and then his lips sought out his throat. Feeling utterly ashamed and defeated, Hiccup’s jaw dropped, releasing his voice in a series of gasps and moans.

“ _Ughn_ , that’s more like it.” Dagur slowed his pace, focusing on driving hard against Hiccup, his head bowed into his neck.

Hiccup was struggling at the same time he was crying out in pleasure. He didn’t feel right: sick, almost feverish. The heat was only added to by the body that was molded into his.

He tossed his head as the pleasure began to reach its peak, pursed his lips into a desperate line. He fought against his bonds, back arching, keening in his throat. 

Dagur was surely approaching his climax as well, his movements quicker and more frantic, his voice leaving his mouth in moans. He squeezed where their bodies met, thrusted desperately. The pleasure just kept building and building, burning through his veins.

They came undone almost simultaneously, Hiccup a second behind Dagur. He screamed as it hit him, then vibrated throughout his entire body. His hips unconsciously twisted up into Dagur’s hand at the peak of it, his body craving one last bit of contact.

Dagur gave a loud exclamation of: “Fuck!” and then went still and loose against him. Neither of them made any motion other than trying to catch their breath for the next minute or so. Hiccup’s body ached and exhaustion began to cloud the edges of his senses. 

“Whew!” Dagur finally climbed off of him and shook himself, acting as if he had just had a refreshing swim. “Damn that was awesome!”

“You're the only one who's thinking that,” Hiccup murmured. He was too tired to have much anger in it, or to open his eyes to shoot a glare. He wasn't even completely comprehending what had just happened to him. It was beginning to feel dreamlike, like a nightmare that would fade when he woke up in the morning. Maybe that’s all that this was.

“Oh, come on, Mr. Loud Mouth,” Dagur teased. There was a cloth wiping off the sticky mess on his stomach and chest. “You were practically singing.”

Hiccup snorted in disdain and disgust, but couldn't manage anything else. He was beginning to fall asleep, something that usually happened after he reached his climax. He was uncomfortable and hurting and in an awkward position for sleep, but it was coming on nonetheless. Better than staying awake to this awful reality though.

Dagur tucked him back into his pants, then gave him one more rub down with the cloth. Hiccup was too far gone into unconscious to react to the lips pressed against his forehead.


	16. Chapter 15

Hiccup woke to someone snapping their fingers in front of his face. He gave an unhappy groan and turned his head away from it, which only resulted in a pain in his neck. 

“Rise and shine, dragon rider!” 

He blearily opened his eyes to look at the owner of that too-cheerful voice. The tent was much brighter; it felt like it was sometime in the late morning.

“Really, Dagur? Don’t you have anything better to do?” He shifted against the pole he was tied to with a grunt. His body was stiff, and his wounds hurt worse than they had the night before. He tried not to think about what had happened, even as panic began to slowly set in, his body fearing more violation and abuse. He was wondering how he hadn't broken down into uncontrollable sobbing and hyperventilation yet. It was as if he was still in shock, the true nature of his torment yet to set in.

“Nah, not really.” The red-haired man sat back on his heels, tilting his head as he looked at him. Hiccup’s skin tingled under that intent, curious gaze. “I can totally see you a lot better now.”

“That’s nice,” Hiccup commented quickly, feeling disgusted. “Can you untie me now?”

He flinched as Dagur reached out a hand and drew his fingers lightly over his right shoulder, then down towards his chest. He was following a set of pink swirls and jagged lines that made their way over his skin.

“What’s this?”

“Lightning scar,” Hiccup answered, trying to will away the feeling of Dagur’s touch. “Thought you would know. Don’t you have some of your own?” He vividly remembered the time that the Skrill had electrocuted the man that was fondling him.

“Surprisingly, I don’t,” Dagur answered a little distractedly, tracing his fingers over the intricate design. “Too bad. That’s really cool.”

“It’d be cool if you stopped touching me.”

“No, no. That would just be disappointing.” He put his hand flat against his abdomen and ran it down to his stomach. “Got a set of abs, huh? Does dragon riding do that for you?”

A tremor ran through Hiccup’s body, leaving him unable to respond. He prayed that Dagur’s hand wouldn’t go any lower.

The Berserker patted his stomach a little too roughly before moving on with his examination. He touched the scar on his chin, ran his fingers over his jaw.

“You need a shave, brother,” Dagur commented. “Getting a little bristly.”

Hiccup snorted, hurting his ribs. “You’re one to talk. Did you _ever_ learn how to use a razor?”

There was suddenly a stinging in his cheek and his head was turned to the side. It took him a moment or two to realize that Dagur had slapped him. He hadn’t really seen it coming. The Berserker and his moods were unpredictable at best.

He responded by facing him, and then spitting in his face. In other situations he would be above such an action, but not now, especially after what had been done to him.

Dagur gave an angry growl, and Hiccup had time to smirk while he wiped at his face. But then he gave a cry as he was slapped again, harder.

“Stop making me hit your face!” Dagur snapped.

“By all means,” he said, voice pained, “do continue.” 

Hiccup knew it was a dangerous thing to play with this man’s wrath, but he couldn’t possibly just give up and easily submit to whatever he wanted. Dagur would have to fight for it, even though he would face the consequences.

“Oh, I see what you’re doing.” His voice was lower, seething. “You think that you can make me ruin your face so much I won’t like it anymore. Not gonna happen, Hiccup. I’ll just hurt you somewhere else.”

“Fun.” He straightened his head, gave him his best glare though he was shaking and his insides were turning to jelly. “What did you have in mind?”

Dagur suddenly drove a hand down between his legs and squeezed. Hard. Hiccup yelped at the pain, arched his back.

“There's a downside to this being so sensitive,” Dagur commented. His grip tightened and Hiccup was left gasping and struggling, unable to find his voice. The abominable pain was working its way up into his stomach, and he shut his eyes.

“Watch your words, Hiccup,” he warned, “because I can do anything I want to you. Absolutely anything.”

He released his hold and Hiccup fell back against the pole, breathing heavily. His member throbbed and ached, and there was a stinging in his stomach. 

_Maybe I’ll hold back on some of the sass for now,_ he considered.

Without warning, Hiccup felt Dagur's lips over his. He grunted in agitation and twisted his head away. Dagur just took the liberty of kissing along his jaw and up towards his ear. Hiccup whimpered as his teeth connected with the curve of it and gave a tug. Then he ran his open mouth down towards his earlobe, which he decided to nibble on. Hiccup shifted uncomfortably, heart racing. This couldn't possibly be happening again.

He gasped as Dagur's lips trailed over the side of his neck, nerves tingling. He bit at him lightly, then sucked the skin into his mouth. Hiccup groaned in distress.

One hand snaked up to squeeze his jaw and hold his head in place. The other massaged the inside of his right leg. Despite his broken ribs, his chest heaved, breathing frightened and heavy.

A shudder ran through him as Dagur's tongue ran over his neck. Then he licked him again, tickling under his chin.

“Stop,” he protested breathlessly.

“But I'm not done marking you yet.” 

Hiccup gasped in pain as he bit him where his ear connected with his jaw, then pulled the skin into his mouth and sucked hard. He cried out at the sensation and tried to wrest his head out of his grip.

Dagur's left hand traveled upwards towards his hip, grasping him with bruising fingers. He seemed quite focused on the task he had appointed himself. 

His teeth met his collarbone next, and he released his head to grab at his left shoulder. Hiccup squirmed in discomfort, lips pursed so as not to make a sound.

Dagur groaned against his skin, making Hiccup feel even more unsettled. But to his surprise, his hands went around him and began untying the rope.

“What are you doing?”

“Just thought we could try something else,” Dagur answered, moving his head to capture Hiccup’s lips with his. His tongue invaded his mouth, and Hiccup wished he could bite him, but he would rather keep all his fingers. His chest was constricting, and he felt hot and shaky. He knew what Dagur was considering.

Dagur broke the kiss once the rope was undone, but grabbed his wrists so that they weren’t free for long. He struggled against him, but the chieftain was much stronger than him.

Hiccup swatted uselessly at Dagur’s face as he released his wrists and grabbed his waist. That didn’t stop him from being flipped over onto his stomach though. He was going to push himself up, but Dagur straddled him, pushing him back down onto the carpet. His wrists were grabbed again, and he couldn’t do anything to stop Dagur from tying them back to the pole.

Hiccup tugged at the rope despite how tightly it was tied, Dagur shifting down his body. The man worked his boot off and then curled his fingers under the waistband of his pants. He wriggled and kicked, trying to do anything in his power to prevent this. Then he decided to work at the rope with his teeth. Desperate tears stung in his eyes as Dagur began to slide his pants down, and taking his sweet time about it too. 

“You know, your struggles are just making me more excited.” Dagur had leaned over and pressed his body against his, speaking in his ear. He ground his hips against him, and Hiccup flinched at the feeling of that hard part of his body.

Dagur had gotten his pants about halfway off when he was interrupted by a voice in the entrance of the tent.

“Uh, my lord.” The soldier cleared his throat uncomfortably. Hiccup was glad that he was obviously not looking. Dagur halted his motions and sat straight on top of him, and he gave up on the rope. “You have a visitor.”

“Can't you see I’m busy?!” he shrieked. Hiccup shrank at the sound of his voice, expecting some sort of demonstration of Dagur being “busy.” However, no such thing happened.

“I-It's an important visitor,” he replied uncomfortably. 

“Ugh, _fine!_ ” Dagur complained. He yanked Hiccup’s pants back up and stood off of him. He breathed an audible sigh of relief once his weight was gone. Then he left the tent, and Hiccup was alone.

He breathed heavily, blinking tears out of his eyes, trying to calm himself. He thanked whoever this visitor was for inadvertently saving him for the time being, then went back to working at the rope with his teeth, positioning his knees underneath him. It seemed impossible to chew through, but that didn't mean he couldn't try.

He wondered who this important visitor was while he gnawed at the rope. He paused briefly to spit a few fibers out of his mouth. Maybe if he had an hour or so he could undo this. Hopefully this visitor would hold Dagur up for long.

_But what do I do after?_

Hiccup bowed his head to the floor, shoulders slumping, as he was hit by a sudden rush of hopelessness and despair. There was nothing good about his situation, and he had no idea how to get out of it. He was captured by Dagur in a camp with thousands of soldiers on an island he’d never been to before. He didn't have dragons, or weapons, or even his leg. He didn't know when help would come. He missed his friends, his dad, Astrid, Toothless. He missed his freedom, and now he was beginning to miss when his body was his own.

A loud sob climbed out of his throat, the tears he had been holding back flowing freely down his cheeks. He’d been raped the night before, and he was obviously going to be raped again. And again. His situation was just going to get worse.

Sobs racked his shoulders as the reality of his situation set in. He felt sick and violated and tainted. Dagur had used his body for his own pleasure, had been about to do so again before he had been called away. He’d gotten rid of every ounce of his dignity and privacy, touched him in places and ways that he shouldn’t have, gained an intimate knowledge of his body. He’d hurt him, but he’d also made him feel good. This just made him cry harder. Hiccup knew that feeling pleasure at some of this wasn’t his fault and it was just his body acting naturally, but it made him feel ashamed anyway.

Now that he had finally come to terms with what had happened, he couldn’t stop thinking it. He’d been raped. By a man. By Dagur. 

Hiccup slumped down onto his stomach and wailed, ribs screaming in protest. He’d never felt so thoroughly defeated as he did now. This easily rose above the loss he had taken when Viggo had gotten the Dragon Eye. Screw the Dragon Eye, screw everything - his _body_ had been taken from him.

Hiccup couldn’t breathe, though his lungs were working air in and out at a rapid rate. His diaphragm and ribs protested this action, and he tried to calm himself. He couldn’t cry like this.

It took a while, but his all-out sobs finally died down into pitiful little sniffles and his breathing had slowed. His face was wet and his eyes red-rimmed and puffy. Dagur would know he had been crying.

_He’ll probably think it’s funny._

He sniffled again and turned his head to rest it against the fur rug. At least laying down was much more comfortable than being tied up sitting. Maybe he could try to get some actual sleep. He was still tired from last night’s ordeal. 

He took a deep breath and shifted a little, trying to get as comfortable as he could, tied up as he was. It was then that an idea occurred to him. Dagur had said that he would give him his prosthetic back if he cooperated. Though it turned his stomach and filled him with dread, maybe he would have to do just that. Getting his prosthetic back would be a great help to him.

Hiccup was actually beginning to doze off as Dagur came back into the tent, and it took him a moment to realize that he was undoing the rope.

“Huh?” he mumbled, lifting his head.

“Someone wants to see you,” Dagur responded. He didn’t sound too happy about it. He finished undoing the rope and gracelessly hefted Hiccup over his shoulder, jarring his injuries and knocking the breath out of him. 

“Who?” Hiccup gasped out as they left the tent. He blinked at the sunlight and looked around. Dagur had neglected to blindfold him. Was it the visitor? Was it possible that his father was here to negotiate?

That idea quickly left his mind. His dad wouldn’t ever try to negotiate with Dagur. It couldn’t be done. If his dad did come, it would be with an army at his back.  
Dagur didn’t answer his question, clearly in a bad mood. Hiccup let himself be carried throughout the camp, looking at everything, trying to form part of a map in his head. It was a little disorienting to be carried around on someone’s shoulder and getting a view from the back, but it would have to do.

Soon, they entered another tent, one that he recognized as the command tent. He was plopped down in the chair at the table, Dagur positioning himself near him, his presence threatening.

Hiccup couldn’t decide whether to focus on the person standing before the table or the items that were placed on it. A quick look at them showed sharp, metal objects. He swallowed hard, then looked at the man standing in front of him.

He felt like he’d been punched in the gut, and his eyes went wide in surprise.

“What a lovely surprise to see you again so soon, Hiccup,” Viggo said in his gentle, flowing voice. “I didn’t actually think I’d find you being held prisoner by Dagur. I expected better from you.”

Hiccup didn’t know what to say. There were so many things he wanted to know and understand, but he knew he wouldn’t get any useful answers. What was Dagur even doing here in the first place? Did Viggo know that he had betrayed him? What were either of them doing? What had they talked about before Dagur had come to get him? What did Viggo want with him? His gaze went back to the implements on the table. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.

Hiccup didn’t say anything. He just looked back to Viggo and tightened his features, drawing his eyebrows down in a glare.

“So determined, Hiccup,” Viggo commented. “But to do what?”

Hiccup rested his hands on the table, grateful that they had been left untied. His right hand inched towards the closest knife as he spoke.

“Slit your throat, maybe.”

Viggo leaned over the table threateningly, placed his hands over Hiccup’s to keep them from moving towards the weapons. His voice still held a cordial disposition when he spoke. “Must us men always leap to killing like barbarians? Where does it get us?”

Hiccup tightened his lips and didn’t respond.

“Besides, I know you don’t like killing, Hiccup,” Viggo said. “Even in self defense. It’s not in your nature.”

“What do you want, Viggo?” Hiccup wasn’t in the mood for this man’s flowery speech. He would rather be straight to the point.

“Information about your Night Fury,” Viggo responded, straightening. “And I would rather not hurt you, but I am not above it.” He nodded to Dagur, who suddenly grabbed his hands and yanked them behind his back. “Usually if torture was to be involved I would have Ryker do it, but this should be handled a little more delicately, don’t you think?”

“What do you want to know?” Hiccup wanted to understand the situation before submitting himself to torture, especially if being defiant turned out to be useless.

“It’s location. I’m sure it’s with your friends, but they wouldn’t possibly be on Dragon’s Edge anymore, not now that you’ve been captured. I was hoping you might be able to tell me where they are.”

“How would I know that?” Hiccup asked. “I’ve been here for the last week or so.”

“You’re smart, Hiccup. I’m sure there would have been some plan set in place if any of you were to be captured.”

“Th-there’s not.” He couldn’t keep himself from stuttering. Of course there was a plan, and he could guess where his friends had gone with Toothless, but he wasn’t just about to give it away, even under the very serious threat of torture. “I don’t know where they are.”

“Maybe I could help refresh your memory.” Viggo reached for something on the table, and Hiccup decided not to look at what it was. “I know it’s in there somewhere.”

“I don’t know,” he said again, forcefully, muscles beginning to tense. He tried to pull his hands from Dagur’s grip, but the man held him tightly.

“You have three choices,” Viggo declared. “I get the information out of you, Dagur gets the information out of you, or you just tell me with no fuss and no pain.”

Hiccup closed his eyes to think. What could he possibly tell Viggo that would deter him? What wouldn’t seem like a lie? Coming up blank, he met Viggo’s dark gaze, then nodded at the implements on the table, making his decision. “Do it.” His voice was hard, hostile and defiant.

“Interesting choice, Hiccup Haddock,” Viggo commented. Dagur’s hold tightened on him and he could sense frustration coming off of him. He would have rather had Hiccup choose him than Viggo. “Dagur, would you please have him show the side of his neck for me?”

Hiccup suddenly had his head shoved down onto the table at an angle that left the right side of his neck exposed. Dagur managed to encircle his other hand around both his wrists, the other holding his head down. Instinct told him to fight and struggle, but Hiccup remained still. He wouldn't get out of this by force. Besides, fear was making him too weak and shaky for any fight to be effective.

“Oh, Dagur, by the way,” Viggo had skirted around the side of the table, leaned over him, “let me know before I touch a spot you don't want me to.”

Despite his situation, Hiccup couldn't help thinking that was odd. It sounded like Viggo respected Dagur in some strange way, and that he understood how he felt about him. 

Breathing heavy, Hiccup tried very hard to see what Viggo was holding over his neck. It didn't take him long to find out however, as it pierced his skin and dug downwards. He yelped and closed his eyes. It felt like either a thick needle or a narrow spike.

“We’ll start slow and work our way up,” Viggo told him, twisting the piece of metal in his neck. Hiccup groaned and unconsciously tried to pull his head away, but Dagur's fingers squeezed the sides of his skull. “You can stop it at anytime, Hiccup.”

He withdrew the metal, but only to pierce his neck in a different spot. Hiccup released a pained breath that turned into a moan as he drove it deeper. It felt like the thing, (he was deciding on calling it a spike,) grew wider as it went up. 

“Does it hurt yet, Hiccup?” That was the first time he had heard Viggo’s voice come anywhere close to taunting.

“Go suck rocks,” he responded as best as he could, voice tight. “Maybe you’ll choke on one and the world will be liberated of your existence.”

Viggo twisted the spike, dug it deeper. It stung and ached all at the same time.

“I like your spirit, Hiccup. Such a shame we’ll have to break it.”

The spike was pulled out and placed in another spot, closer to his shoulder. Hiccup cried out and fought weakly against Dagur's grip. He was surprised the man wasn't saying anything. It was very unlike him.

“You don't have to go through with this, you know,” Viggo urged. He twisted the spike back and forth in his flesh, causing him to whimper. “You can just tell me where the dragon riders and your Night Fury are.”

Hiccup didn't answer, and the spike impaled his neck in yet another spot. He gasped, trying yet again to twist away from it.

“I’m going easy on you right now.” Viggo's voice was still as calm as ever. “I find that a little pain with the threat of worse often makes people crack.”

And he pierced him again. Hiccup cried out, tried again to pull his hands free. Dagur lifted his head and slammed it back down in a show of frustration, jarring the metal inside of him.

“Dagur, if you could please refrain from manhandling him more than is necessary, as he did in fact pick me.”

Dagur muttered something angrily under his breath, but made no other response.

 _For good reason._ Hiccup would rather endure whatever Viggo had in mind than be raped again. He was afraid how long this was going to last, and what was worse was that he was bound to crack at some point. 

“An interesting choice, I must say,” Viggo said, twisting the spike and bringing a groan out of Hiccup. “You must fear Dagur more than me.” 

_And you probably know the reason._ Hiccup decided not to say this out loud. He would rather not talk about it, especially with the situation he was in.

He breathed heavily through his mouth as he was impaled yet again, feeling utterly terrified and hopeless. He had no way of getting out of this, could do nothing but face the pain.

He lost count of how many times Viggo drove the spike into his neck and twisted it. He wanted it to end, but he knew that once it did, he would be moving on to something worse.

Viggo put the spike down, but Hiccup wasn't let back up yet. He watched uneasily, panting, as Viggo picked up a needle that was only about the size of a sewing pin.

“It's quite interesting how sensitive the human ear is,” Viggo commented. “Nobody even considers that.”

Hiccup struggled in vain as Viggo reached for his right ear, then folded the top of it together. He gave a pained cry as the needle went in one side and then out the other, pinning the folded halves together. 

“Wonder why,” Hiccup grunted, trying his best to keep up his sarcasm. Viggo continued to pinch his ear, and then another needle slid into place just below the first one.

“Gah!” That one had hurt even worse. His eyes watered.

“Would you like a third one, or are you going to tell me where your Night Fury is?”

“May I have a third one?” Hiccup managed to get out, his breaths coming hard and fast. “I don't think the first two really represent your quality of service.”

Viggo chuckled before shoving a third needle in his ear. Hiccup jerked and yelped.

“You're quite amusing, aren't you?”

“And you're quite dull and boring,” Hiccup retorted. A high-pitched cry left his mouth as another needle was shoved into his ear. 

“I could just fill up your whole ear like a pincushion.” Viggo seemed as collected as ever, which Hiccup found incredibly unnerving. “Does that seem boring?”

Hiccup’s only answer was a cry, yet another needle entering his ear. It hurt terribly, and a few tears leaked out of his eyes.

 _Okay, okay, I have to think of something to tell him._ He flinched and grunted as another needle went into his ear. The pain was making it hard to think, to come up with a plausible lie.

“Ow, ow, ow!” He tried desperately to jerk his head away, but Dagur was making sure he couldn't. 

“You just have to tell me one simple little thing and I’ll stop,” Viggo urged. 

“What was the question again? Ah!” He twisted his shoulders, but Dagur just held his head down harder. “I-I was too focused on my ear being used as a pincushion. _Mmph!_ ” Hiccup felt a little pride in his response. He was still keeping it up, though fear and adrenaline danced violently throughout his veins, curdling his blood and twisting his muscles into tense knots. This was really beginning to grow tiring.

“Is there a specific reason you chose me over Dagur?” Viggo questioned. There was a hint of a smile in his voice. He definitely knew. “Perhaps he’d be able to get it out of you, hm?”

“Nope, just keep doing what you're doing.” Hiccup felt himself beginning to panic. If Viggo let Dagur… He held back a shudder, not wanting to betray how he felt.

“Alright then. Let me know if you change your mind.”

The needles being removed from his ear was almost as bad as them being put in. His skin was stinging and burning once it was done, and he was allowed back up. He gasped for air, injured ribs aching at the action. He tried his best not to react as Dagur smoothed his sweaty hair out of his face, almost as if he was trying to comfort him.

Hiccup watched anxiously as Viggo took a set of tongs from the table, then went over to the brazier in the center of the tent, and stuck them in the fire.

_Oh gods, I have to come up with something._

Hiccup tried in vain to slow his breathing, wondering where he could possibly send Viggo. The problem was, he would return from wherever he sent him knowing that it had been a lie, and he would go through this all over again.

Viggo returned with a coal from the brazier, the mineral still smoldering and glowing orange.

“You know, Hiccup,” Dagur began, running a finger over his jaw, “you can still pick me.”

Angered at the touch, Hiccup twisted his head and tried to bite him, but he wasn’t fast enough.

“Come now, Hiccup, I thought you would take this with more dignity than that,” Viggo commented. 

“I took his dignity,” Dagur stated rather proudly, bringing the hand that wasn’t restraining him to the back of his neck and stroking. Hiccup’s breath hitched and a shiver ran through his body. He didn’t know what he was more afraid of: the hot coal no doubt about to be placed on his bare skin, or Dagur’s gentle, sickening touches. He would rather not have to face both at the same time.

He panted, stomach twisting, as the coal hovered over his left shoulder. Viggo looked to Dagur for a confirmation about this spot, and the man must have nodded, because it wasn’t long after that it was placed on his skin.

It took a second for his nerves to register the pain, a scream leaving his mouth once it did, head going back. He kicked his one foot, struggled to get away from the awful burning. Dagur was stroking the side of his face.

Hiccup forced his jaw shut, but couldn’t help screaming through his teeth. Tears leaked from his closed eyes.

“Do you feel up to talking yet?”

Despite the pain, Hiccup shook his head. He was given a second of relief as the coal was lifted from his shoulder, but then it made contact again, near his collarbone this time. He jerked and shouted, all the while Dagur was stroking his face and running his fingers through his sweat-damp hair. This was not an experience he had ever imagined he would have.

He tossed his head, Dagur’s hand following him, keeping contact with his face.

“Oh! Oh gods! Oh gods, it hurts!” He moaned loudly through gritted teeth, tried twisting his body.

“That’s the idea, Hiccup. And it will continue to hurt unless you start giving me information.”

Hiccup slumped against the chair as the coal was pulled away for the moment, panting, a sheen of sweat coating his skin. He didn’t react to Dagur’s hand. It was much nicer than the agony in his left shoulder and collarbone.

“Where’s the hurting?” Hiccup asked breathlessly after a few moments. “I thought I ordered the whole package. Don’t make me ask for a refund.”

“Oh, I was just waiting to see if perhaps you’d changed your mind,” Viggo responded after a chuckle. “I can’t say that I’ve ever met someone as strong-willed as you before.”

Then the coal was pressed into his right shoulder. The pain was excruciating and he arched his back, mouth open in a scream. He twisted and kicked and thrashed, but none of it mattered. That hot coal just sat boring a hole into his shoulder.

“ _Stop!_ ” he finally cried. He couldn’t take the pain anymore.

Viggo pulled the coal away, giving him a few seconds to breathe before asking, “Are you going to tell me where your Night Fury is?”

His resolve built back up almost as fast as it had crumbled. He had just needed a break was all.

“No. I was going to tell you where I plan to put my foot when I get the chance, specifically the metal one.”

Dagur laughed loudly at that, wiping the still-flowing tears from his flushed face. “Good one, Hiccup!”

“Dagur, I’m assuming I’m _not_ allowed to touch his face?” Viggo sounded the slightest bit irritated. The man was practiced in not revealing his emotions.

“Not a chance.” There was still humor in his voice when he answered. “You touch his face and I’ll cut yours off.”

“You can try.”

The coal didn’t go on his face however. It went back to his right shoulder, right next to the original wound there. Hiccup jolted and bit his lip, trying not to scream. His head tilted into Dagur’s caressing hand almost of its own accord, nerves craving something other than this pain. He whimpered loudly in his throat, then made a choking sound as he held back a sob. He tasted blood as he bit down on his lip harder, determined not to scream. He stayed like that for almost a minute, but then Viggo pulled the coal away.

“You _are_ resilient, aren’t you?”

“I think the better word would be stubborn,” he forced out, exhausted and tormented body going slack. He looked at him through half-open eyes. He was carefully placing the coal back in the brazier, and then he came back and set the tongs down on the table. He looked to be considering his next course of action.

Hiccup’s eyes opened a little wider when he noticed that he was studying the way Dagur was touching him. He could almost see what he was thinking.

“Perhaps I _will_ have Dagur get it out of you,” Viggo mused. “You see, I could make you talk, but it would take time, and I can’t be here all day. Perhaps he will have more luck than I.” There was a sense of knowing in that last statement, and horror clenched Hiccup’s stomach.

“No, Viggo, you can’t!” Hiccup hadn’t meant for it to come out sounding like begging, but that’s what it had done. He leaned forward, tried pulling away from Dagur, but that touch stopped being gentle and instead gripped his face hard.

“Come on, Hiccup, you don’t want to finish what we started earlier?” Dagur asked teasingly, giving his head a little shake.

“Start giving me some answers, Hiccup,” Viggo demanded, placing his hands flat against the table. “Unless you _want_ me to watch Dagur bend you over this table and take you. He’s been dying to do it. He’s made it much too obvious.”

“Wha-what’s the difference? He’s g-going to d-do it any-anyway.” Hiccup couldn’t keep himself from stuttering.

“Alright then.” Viggo stood straight and used one hand to motion to Dagur before folding both behind his back.

Hiccup cried out as he was slammed into the table. His hands had been freed, but before he could reach for any sort of a weapon, Dagur quickly swept them off the table and kicked the chair out from under him, forcing him to put all his weight against the table.

One of Dagur’s hands pressed into his shoulder to hold him in place, the other raking its fingernails down his back. Hiccup tightly gripped the front edge of the table, writhed under that touch. This couldn’t be happening. Even worse, it was in front of Viggo. The idea was utterly dehumanizing. 

“Wait, wait!” Hiccup shouted, opening his eyes to look at Viggo. He knew that he wasn’t going to get out of this, but at least it wouldn’t happen in front of Viggo if he told him something. “Dark Deep! They fled to Dark Deep!”

Viggo leaned down to be eye level with him. “Oh really?” He seemed to be looking for a lie.

“Yes, really,” Hiccup insisted. “I-It’s a great place to hide. Lots of caves and tunnels.”

“And I’ll find your Night Fury there?” Viggo pressed.

Hiccup felt his resolve crumbling, but he had to keep up with the lie. “Yes, yes.” He tried to sound heartbroken, something that wasn’t very hard in his current situation. Just the thought of Viggo getting his hands on Toothless… At least that wouldn’t happen at Dark Deep. The only dragons there were Gronckles and the Catastrophic Quaken, a dragon that Viggo hopefully didn’t know existed. He and his men would be in for a nasty surprise.

“Alright, Hiccup.” Viggo straightened. “Thank you for that.” His next words were obviously to Dagur. “Carry on. He’s all yours.” Then he left the tent.

“Dark Deep, huh?” Dagur asked, grinding his hips against him. Hiccup tightened at the feeling of his stiffened member bumping against his backside, a warning of what was to come. “You should’ve just told him. Better yet, you should have picked me.”

“Stop.” Hiccup’s tired mind had run out of snappy things to say. “I-I don't want this.”

“I do!” Dagur sang, beginning to pull his pants down.

“You know that's the definition of rape, right?”

“Yup. And you know I don't care, right?”

Hiccup squirmed against him with a frightened whimper, though it was probably arousing him more. 

“Has anyone told you you’ve got a cute little ass?” Dagur questioned, squeezing one cheek. Hiccup felt sick and disgusted. 

He heard Dagur spit into his hand and then his finger was prodding at his entrance. He shoved it inside, drawing a pained gasp from Hiccup. It wasn't long after that he inserted another one, not even letting him adjust to the first. It burned terribly and he grew even more frightened of what was to come if he couldn’t even handle two fingers. His knuckles turned white as he held on to the table, and he was gasping wildly, fresh tears filling his eyes. This was wrong. This was just so wrong.

Dagur drove his fingers deeper inside of him, almost as if he was searching for something. Hiccup gave a pained cry and flailed his left leg.

“Aha! Got it!” Dagur exclaimed. And then his fingers hit _something_ that sent a bolt of pleasure through his body and into his cock. He cried out at the unexpected sensation that mingled oddly with the pain.

Dagur pumped his fingers inside of him, the unfamiliar friction stinging. But every once in a while he would hit that spot that would make him feel quite the opposite of pain. It was strange. It was strange and disgusting and wrong.

He was relieved momentarily as Dagur withdrew his fingers, his left hand stroking down his back. He knew he was about to face much worse though.

“You know, I should probably have you suck me first,” Dagur said, hands roaming over his ass. “Gotta have a little lubricant or else it would hurt both of us.”

“Dagur, _please_ stop,” Hiccup begged tearfully. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Are you kidding?” he asked, sounding incredulous. “Of course I do!” He shrieked out a laugh.

And then Hiccup was being yanked downwards off the table and flipped around. He was suddenly on the floor and shoved onto his knees. He quickly closed his eyes before he could get an unwanted view of Dagur’s cock, clamped his jaw shut. There was no way he was going to make this easy for him.

Dagur gripped his jaw. “Really, Hiccup? Just open up and save yourself the trouble.”

Hiccup shook his head, tried pulling himself from his grip and backing away from him, but his other hand clamped down on his shoulder, and he couldn’t hold in a yelp as he made contact with the burns. Dagur used that to his advantage, and his cock was suddenly in his mouth. He was about to bite him, but then remembered that he’d get a finger cut off if he did that. He didn’t want to lose any more pieces of himself in his lifetime, so he forced himself to remain still.

“That a boy, Hiccup.” He nearly sobbed as one of Dagur’s hands stroked through his hair. “Now are you gonna do it for me or do you want me to fuck you in the mouth too?”

Hiccup couldn’t make himself move, not to do what Dagur wanted, or to get away. Every choice was horrible.

“Ugh, fine.” Dagur suddenly drove his hips forward so that he was choking. His mind dissolved into panic and he couldn’t think anymore. He didn’t know how long Dagur held him there, but he was beginning to struggle for breath. He grabbed at his thighs, tried shoving himself away. Dagur just tightened his hold in his hair, then began rocking back and forth, making Hiccup gag and drool. He managed to get a few breaths in through his nose.

Hiccup was coughing and spluttering once Dagur pulled away from him, then taking huge breaths, lungs relieved to be filled with air again. He felt faint and dizzy, and there was nothing he could do as he was suddenly grabbed by two hands and shoved back onto the table on his stomach. Then Dagur’s fingers were inside him again, circling, but it didn’t last long.

Hiccup finally found the breath to protest. “Dagur, no! Please! You can't!”

The chieftain just leaned over him, spreading his cheeks apart with both hands. “Dagur, yes.” His voice was deep and heavy, his breath hot in his stinging and bleeding right ear.

Hiccup whimpered and squeezed his eyes shut, tightened his hold on the table to brace himself. Horror was eating him up inside.

It hurt. Bad. He gasped loudly, tried lifting himself from the table despite Dagur's weight against him. 

The Berserker grunted and thrusted against him, going deeper, stretching and burning his insides. Hiccup gave a cry, strained against the body holding his down. He wouldn't be surprised if there was blood.

“Come on, Hiccup, come on,” Dagur growled lowly. He crushed his right hip in one hand, the other still being used to reveal his entrance. 

Dagur thrusted again, going another inch deeper, knocking his pelvis against the edge of the table. Hiccup shouted at the pain, writhed underneath him. His face was wet with tears that were coming more readily now.

Hiccup pressed his forehead against the wood as Dagur forced his way farther into him. He sobbed loudly and unashamedly. It just hurt so much, and he was just so scared and sickened. Tainted. Violated.

“Come on, Hiccup, almost there,” Dagur coaxed. “Just one more-”

Hiccup interrupted him with a wail as he rocked into him again, rolled his forehead against the table in distress. Dagur was now fully sheathed in him, his hips and thighs pressed against him.

Dagur brought himself up, stroked a hand reverently over his back as Hiccup arched it and tried to find air. He was beginning to hyperventilate, breathing too fast to actually use the air that he was gasping in and out.

“Fuck,” he heard Dagur murmur over his frantic breathing. 

Hiccup screamed at the first real thrust in and out of his body, clawed desperately at the table. He still couldn't get a real breath in. He felt lightheaded and his chest was beginning to ache.

The hand on his hip suddenly moved to grip his neck, cutting off his air. He choked and struggled, and Dagur thrusted again. He knew he would be able to breathe fine once Dagur released his neck. He was trying to keep him from fainting.

_Great. I was hoping I would faint._

“It's alright, Hiccup. Everything's going to be alright.” Dagur released his neck and he took in huge gulps of air, filling his lungs. Dagur actually let him breathe for a moment or two before thrusting again, causing him to yelp and groan. It wasn't long after that he started a punishing pace, rocking Hiccup against the table.

Hiccup cried out and writhed with each thrust, wishing he could die. He hadn't felt this kind of pain or level of violation before. He felt like the storm of emotions inside of him could maybe kill him. Never in his life had he experienced anything remotely like this.

Dagur was grunting and groaning with exertion and pleasure as he worked himself in and out of him. He ran his hands all over him, touching him wherever he could, scratching him with his fingernails.

“Please, please stop!” Hiccup sobbed. “Please! It hurts!”

“It will the first few times.” Dagur took ahold of his shoulder to use as leverage to go deeper, pulling him even closer to him. The fingers scraping against his burns made him scream. 

_No, no!_ Hiccup hated that statement. It meant that Dagur was going to do this to him again. And again.

He sobbed wildly as this invasion of his body continued. Dagur hadn't been lying when he told Viggo that he had taken his dignity. He wished that the questioning with more traditional methods could have gone on longer, no matter how much it hurt. It would have held this off longer, and it paled in comparison to the mental and emotional pain this caused.

Dagur was managing to continuously hit that spot inside of him now, but it didn't feel good anymore. It only added to the pain and discomfort.

“ _Mmm_ , Hiccup. Oh _gods_.” Dagur's voice was awed, like he couldn't believe this was finally happening. He’d wanted this for years.

Hiccup just moaned and cried with each thrust, wishing desperately for it to end. It was just so terrible. 

Dagur's movements slowed for the time being, and he released the painful grip on his burned shoulder. He settled for running his hands up and down his back and sides. 

Hiccup pressed his forehead to the table, gasping, sobbing. This was unbelievable.

“You're being so good right now, Hiccup,” Dagur crooned. “Such a good boy.”

“G-go die in a-a hole,” he managed to get out. He wasn't going to be Dagur's willing pet.

“I’ll take that back.”

Hiccup gave a cry as Dagur squeezed the back of his neck, tried to twist away from it.

“You make some pretty damn sexy noises,” he commented. 

“F-fuck you.” He wished he could come up with something better than that, but his mind was overridden by pain and fatigue.

“But that's what I'm doing to you!” Dagur shouted excitedly. His pace quickened again, each of his movements hurting more than the last. 

Hiccup lifted his head, crying out and yelping. When was this going to end?!

Dagur took the liberty of tugging on his hair. His other hand was placed firmly, almost painfully, on his back.

_The gods must hate me. What have I ever done to deserve this?_

Dagur's thrusts were turning frantic and he was actually whimpering. Hiccup knew what was coming, wanted to throw up. He was actually salivating like he was about to.

A hot liquid began to pump into his tortured insides. Dagur caused him to scream as he drove himself deep, cursing profusely.

Then it was done. Hiccup rested his head on the table, panting, his stomach doing flips. He swallowed back the extra saliva in his mouth.

Dagur remained inside of him, stroking his back with a sense of awe and disbelief. All he managed to say was: “Wow.”

After a few moments, he retreated from his body. Hiccup cringed at the sensation and the wet slopping sound. He left a trail of cum and blood.

Hiccup breathed heavily in relief once it was over. He felt cold and shaky, probably going into shock. He was actually surprised it hadn't happened sooner.

“You made it, Hiccup.” Dagur patted him on the back. “You want a reward?”

Hiccup just shook his head, shaking too much to speak properly. His teeth were beginning to chatter.

“But you did so well!” Dagur stroked his back. “And it's not really fair that I came and you didn't, now is it?”

“I-I don't care.”

“And your poor dick has been neglected,” Dagur went on, ignoring him. “It must be so unhappy right now.”

“N-no,” Hiccup protested weakly. The last thing he needed was more of Dagur touching him. But he was too wiped out to fight as he grabbed him around the waist and rolled him onto his back.

Dagur peppered his stomach with wet, slobbering kisses, hands holding his wrists firmly down on the table so he wouldn't be able to fight. Hiccup quivered in fear and whimpered a little, then sobbed. This was officially the worst day of his life, and it was hardly noon.

He turned his head away as Dagur took him into his mouth. He didn't want to feel any arousal from this contact, but he did anyway. At least, his body did. His mind was still trying to catch up with what had just happened to him.

Hiccup didn't move the entire time. He felt weak and cold, hands shaking against the table. His eyes were wide open, yet he couldn't see, the world around him blurred into a nonsensical mess. He almost didn't feel what was happening to him. He was starting to wonder if he was even breathing.

Hardly a sound left him when he came, and it seemed that that was the last his body could take. Everything around him dissolved into the cold that was swallowing him up. He didn't fight his eyes rolling back into his head.


	17. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear readers! I know a lot of you keep asking me when Hiccup is going to be rescued, but why on Earth would I tell you? Spoilers! Just a hint: it's not in this chapter. Please enjoy my evil. I know I do.

Warmth. It was everywhere, swaddling him in this great big cocoon. A little, contented smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and he snuggled into whatever soft thing he was wrapped in. His mind was fogged with sleep, and he felt like he could easily return to it. He didn't see any reason not to.

Then something awoke in his memories, something terrible - a nightmare.

Hiccup jerked up with a wild gasp, heard the rattling of metal. He tried to use his hands to throw the fur blankets off of him, but they were bound in front of him with coarse rope, nearly to the elbows, pressed against his chest. There was something heavy around his ankle: a metal cuff. A chain snaked out from under the blankets and he followed it to find that it was attached to the pole in the center of the tent - Dagur's tent. It then hit him that he was on his cot, and without a single stitch of clothing.

_Good gods…_

He fought back the urge to scream, tried to reign in his terror. His breath left him in uncontrollable pants.

A quick survey of the tent showed that he was alone, and he made himself lie back down. His body hurt terribly and it was difficult to take inventory of every ache and pain. He felt clean though, and the absence of bodily fluids on him would have been relieving if not for the fact that Dagur had probably been the one to bathe him. He rubbed his chin across one bandaged shoulder; it was smooth. He’d apparently given him a shave as well. The thought that Dagur had had a blade against his face unnerved him.

Hiccup tried to pinpoint the time of day. Inside the tent was dim, but he could make out a hint of orange from the opening. It was evening.

 _Aw, shit._ That meant Dagur would be returning soon, maybe even to repeat what had happened earlier.

Earlier. 

Bile rose in his throat and it was all he could do not to roll over and retch all over the fur rug. There wasn't anything in his stomach anyway. He hadn't eaten since the day before. It seemed so long ago now. So many things had happened to him since.

Hiccup wasn't hungry, but his thirst was coming to the forefront of his senses. When was the last time he had had a drink?

He quickly shut his eyes at the sound of approaching footsteps. Maybe it would be better for him to pretend he was still asleep.

The heavy steps entered the tent, came over to the side of the cot. There was no movement for a few moments, and the feeling of Dagur towering over him made his skin crawl.

“I know you're awake.”

Hiccup opened his eyes in defeat, steeled himself to glare at his captor. Those cruel green eyes just glared right back.

But then Dagur threw his head back and laughed much too loudly. “You blinked! I win!”

Hiccup didn't say anything, just curled his lips down in contempt. He was trying not to show that he was afraid, and of course he was. This man had… He couldn't bring himself to think it at the moment.

“But come, sit up. We're going to have dinner! Well, you are. I already ate.”

“I'm not hungry,” Hiccup stated hoarsely, keeping his head up, though he wanted to curl it into the blankets and hide from view. That would be a sign of submission though, and he was definitely not going to submit.

“Of course you are,” Dagur told him. He flinched as one big hand ruffled his hair. “You’ve been doing some strenuous activities, don't you think?”

“I'm. Not. Hungry.” Hiccup made each word sound like it was a demand. He was too anxious and terrified and disgusted to eat anything.

“Too bad. You're eating.”

Almost as if it were on cue, a man in plain clothing stepped into the tent carrying a wooden tray. He bowed to Dagur timidly before offering it to him. He took it without a thank you and the man hurriedly left, head down.

Hiccup raised his eyebrows a little at this. He hadn't known that the Berserkers kept slaves. But, then again… He was all too aware of the chain on his foot.

“Sit up.” The words were obviously an order, and Hiccup grudgingly did as he was told, making sure the blankets still covered his lower half. He knew that he was about to face severe humiliation. Either Dagur was going to feed him or he was going to make him eat it like a dog. He wasn't sure which he would prefer.

Dagur set the wooden tray down across Hiccup’s legs, then put himself on the cot next to him. So apparently he was going to feed him. Fantastic.

Curious to what his dinner was, Hiccup looked down at the tray. There was a bowl of some kind of meat and potato stew and a piece of bread. He was a little happy at also seeing a cup of water.

Dagur reached for the cup first, gave Hiccup a hard stare before lifting it to his lips. It meant ‘no funny business.’

He drank deeply and gratefully from the cup. The water was cool and soothing, relieving his dry mouth and aching throat. However, Dagur pulled it away too soon for his liking. He glared.

“You’ll get more if you eat,” Dagur told him, picking up the spoon. “Without any trouble,” He twirled it in his hand, waiting for Hiccup to make some sort of response. He just grimly nodded his head.

Had all his dignity not already been taken from him, being spoon-fed by Dagur would have been the most humiliating thing he had ever experienced. Hiccup was trembling a little throughout it, blinking back tears. Neither of them spoke, which was surprising on Dagur's end. All the man ever did was talk.

Hiccup didn't know whether or not to be relieved when it was over though. The same slave came and lit the brazier near the cot, then took the tray and left, bowing and scraping. Hiccup was once again left alone with Dagur. At night.

“You warm enough?”

Hiccup couldn't tell whether the question was out of care or simply taunting. Knowing Dagur, it was probably a mix of both. 

He turned his head away when Dagur kicked his boots off, then began to remove his clothing. A few moments later his hand caught him under the chin.

“Hiccup, look at me.” The command was somehow gentle, but Hiccup didn't comply, leaving Dagur to pull his head the other way. He was relieved to find that he had only stripped above the waist, but the feeling didn't last. It made him seem more terrifying somehow, all his scars and muscles in plain view. He was nothing compared to him. He wondered for a moment why he even bothered fighting. A tattoo on his left forearm caught his attention, but the light was too dim to make out exactly what it was.

“Why are you doing this?” Hiccup was surprised by how plainly the words left his mouth, not in terror but in curiosity. 

Dagur looked at him as if he had suddenly grown a second head. “Because you're mine, Hiccup,” he said, squeezing his jaw. He made it sound like it was the most obvious thing in the world, like it was something he should have known right from the start. “You’ve always been mine.”

Fear and anger danced in his veins, lighting a strange fire in his eyes and making his voice fierce. “I don't belong to anyone, and especially not you.”

“Then why is my crest going to be burned into your skin tomorrow?” Dagur asked. 

Hiccup’s mouth went dry. “What?”

“I’m having you branded.” He poked him hard just above his left breast. “Right here. Been thinking about where I should put it for a while now. Almost decided to put it on your ass.”

Hiccup swallowed, licked his lips. He should have seen this coming. He managed to pull his head away.

“But that means-”

Dagur interrupted his terrified whisper. “-That if by some extraordinary means that you do get out of here, you’ll never be chief. Your little girlfriend will never want you, not that she would have anyway now that I’ve ravished and defiled you.”

Hiccup turned his head again and closed his eyes. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the man beside him. This news resonated horror within him, whether at the promise of the physical agony it would bring, or what the brand itself meant.

Dagur took his chin in his hand again and forced his head back towards him, and Hiccup had no choice but to look at him. His breathing was rapid and shallow, and he felt like something inside of him was being eaten away.

“No one will want you, Hiccup.” Dagur stroked his thumb across his cheek, and he drew in a shaky breath at the touch. “No one except me.”

He suddenly worked his way under the blankets with him and crashed his lips into his. He squeezed his eyes shut, desperately holding back tears, the ache rising in his throat threatening to be released as a sob.

The kiss was short, but that, added on to the knowledge of his impending branding, was enough to start him shaking. A few stray tears trailed down his cheeks, wetting Dagur’s fingers. He drew in a shuddering breath before whispering in abject horror: “You’re disgusting.”

“I _know_.” He sounded proud of it. “It’s so fun really.”

Hiccup shuddered as Dagur suddenly dragged his tongue up the left side of his face. He strained against the ropes wrapped tightly around his arms, tugging at the chain with his right foot and making it clank and rattle.

Dagur turned him so that he was facing him, grabbed at his thighs. Hiccup pulled his head back at the touch of his lips, but he just followed, kissing at the corner of his mouth, his patchy, uneven beard scratching uncomfortably against his skin.

“N-no,” Hiccup breathed, which was a mistake. Dagur’s tongue found its way into his open mouth. He made a muffled sound of protest, yanked his head to the side, but Dagur was glued to him. His tongue ran along the inside of his mouth and Hiccup tried to use his own to shove his away. It became a strange battle inside his mouth while Dagur’s lips still moved against his.

“It’s so arousing when you try to fight,” Dagur said once he pulled away, breath puffing against Hiccup’s face. He was much too close, nearly kissing him. “But remember what I said? You want your leg back, don’t you?”

At the moment, Hiccup couldn’t believe he had even considered cooperation that morning. So what if he got his prosthetic back? He wasn’t going to give himself willingly to Dagur. He couldn’t!

“Go to Niflheim.” 

Dagur made a clucking sound with his tongue. “That’s not very nice, Hiccup. Hasn’t anyone taught you manners?”

His left thigh was released, but only so Dagur could clutch his hair and yank his head back to expose his neck. He kicked his legs as he trailed open-mouthed kisses over his neck, yanked at the chain. A whimper left his throat, and, whether it was from pain or pleasure, he didn’t know. 

His struggles caused Dagur to run his teeth over his throat as a warning. He gasped in pain as he nipped at his skin, decided to still his movements for the time being.

“Fuck, you taste good,” Dagur muttered against Hiccup’s skin, sending a chill racing up his spine.

A moan parted Hiccup’s lips without his consent as Dagur literally began sucking on his throat. The man pulled harder on his hair, yanking his head back to the point where it hurt. Hiccup could hardly breathe as his teeth and lips and tongue worked at his neck. It felt good at the same exact time it scared him. This confusing mix of feelings made the silent tears fall more freely.

He found his trembling body moving into that touch. He tried to make it stop, but it wouldn’t listen to him, not when such a sensitive spot was being paid so much attention.

Dagur’s left hand trailed softly up and down his side, the right clenching its fingers tighter in his hair. For some reason, the movement helped Hiccup come back to himself.

“Stop it.” His words were weak and shaky. It was hard to speak with Dagur’s mouth working at the most sensitive part of his neck. “Y-you have to stop.”

Dagur paused for a moment, spoke with his lips pressed against him. “Is that so?” His voice was teasing. “But don't worry, Hiccup. I'm not going to take you tonight. You need time to recover.” He placed a kiss on his racing pulse. “I just want a little dessert is all.”

“Then go eat sand, why don't you?”

Dagur laughed softly against his neck. “Still bringing the funny. I like it.”

And he was back at it, licking and sucking and nibbling on his neck. Hiccup let out a desperate whine. Why couldn't he just stop touching him?

He forced Hiccup down onto his back, pressed his chest against his bound arms. His mouth finally left his neck, (leaving marks no doubt,) but only to latch on to his own. His hands grabbed at his waist.

Hiccup was relieved that the rest of him was safe for now, but that didn't mean he was going to put up with this kissing and fondling. He grunted, twisted his head away, brought up his right knee to try to shove Dagur off of him. The man just shoved his knee back down, decided to bring his attention to his exposed left ear. Hiccup groaned as he gave it a tug with his teeth.

“I'm sorry about what Viggo did to the other one.” He ran the curve of it between his lips. “Want me to kiss it better?”

“Go kiss a yak,” Hiccup snapped, trying to work his way out from under him, but there were too many things trapping him: the rope, the chain, Dagur, even the blankets. It was becoming tiresome and making his injuries ache, so, against his own nature, he gave up. He was just going to endure Dagur's touching for now.

“But that would be gross.”

“Yeah, just like you. You're basically family.”

Dagur angrily clenched his teeth over his ear, making him cry out. He didn't move or struggle though. 

He breathed a relieved sigh once Dagur released his stinging ear, moved his mouth to mark up the left side of his neck just like he had his throat. Fear was screaming at Hiccup to fight and struggle, but he remained still. He closed his eyes and forced his tense muscles to relax. He just had to wait until Dagur was finished.

Problem was, it felt good. His senses _liked_ the suckling on his neck, even as his gut twisted in revulsion. For the moment, he decided not to fight that either, and found himself breathing a quiet moan. Maybe this would be easier to get through if he focused on the sensation rather than who was doing it to him.

But he couldn't. The beard scratching at his skin, the weight on him, the huge hands grasping and stroking at his body just drove home who this was. This was a man. This was Dagur.

Hiccup whimpered a little in emotional distress before Dagur was kissing him on the lips again. He let Dagur slide his tongue into his mouth though, and the man was being surprisingly gentle. The fingers of his right hand were brushing across his face and through his hair, his left stroking circles over his stomach. This just managed to drive Hiccup’s emotions into a frenzy however. He felt so many things, didn't know which one to hone in on. Confusion, relief, terror, despair, pleasure, pain, exhaustion. It made his chest ache.

“Did you change your mind about cooperating?” Dagur's voice was nearly a whisper.

“I'm just tired.” That was true. Hiccup was certain he would be back at fighting the next day, even though it got him nowhere.

“I suppose I have to let you sleep then.” Dagur sounded somewhat disappointed. He gave him a long, final kiss on the mouth, then rolled him onto his side.

Hiccup froze as Dagur's arms went around him and his chin rested on his shoulder. The Berserker chief had molded his body around his, and the feeling of each of his muscles and the undoubtedly masculine features put his heart in his throat. How was he expected to sleep like this, in the arms of his enemy, captor, and, most recently, rapist? 

He released a shuddering breath, tried shifting away from Dagur, but he wouldn't let him go. He tried to remain still as his lips briefly touched the back of his neck.

“I-I thought you were going to let me sleep,” Hiccup said a little hoarsely, not bothering to hide the fear and discomfort in his voice.

“I am,” Dagur answered simply. Hiccup tensed as he nuzzled his neck and shoulder with his nose, pulled him closer. “Mm, feels like I'm dreaming.”

Hiccup didn't say anything, just shifted again, terribly uncomfortable. His heart was pounding, his breaths quick and shallow. Why couldn't he just leave him alone?

Hiccup kicked his legs in a futile attempt to get Dagur to release him, the chain attached to his ankle rattling violently.

“Jeez, relax, would ya?” Dagur sounded irritated. One of his legs came up and curled around Hiccup’s left one, using his knee as leverage. His thigh brushed against his hip and pelvis.

This didn't stop him though. Hiccup thrashed the upper half of his body, tried smacking him with the back of his head and twisting away. He felt like he was being smothered by him, like he was being crushed and drowned. All he could smell and feel was Dagur, and it was driving him crazy with panic. He released a sob despite the logic that it was never a good thing to cry so obviously in front of Dagur, but he just couldn’t help it.

The Berserker suddenly had Hiccup’s head locked in the crook of his arm, and he was given one last gasp of breath before his forearm was crushed against his throat, cutting off his air. Hiccup choked and writhed, trying to slip himself from his painful grip. Dagur’s leg pressed hard against his and the arm still around his abdomen squeezed at his broken ribs. Pain flared up through his bones. He wanted to scream, but couldn’t, lungs aching and fighting for air. All of his movement was hindered by the position.

“If you don’t stop moving this instant, I’ll change my mind about not taking you tonight,” Dagur growled dangerously in his ear. Hiccup’s face was turning red and his chest heaved uselessly. He was making strange gulping noises as he tried to take a breath. 

“And I was going to be generous and use oil the second time, but the only lubricant you’ll be getting is your own blood if you keep this up. Then you’ll really have something to cry about.”

Hiccup was beginning to feel lightheaded and dizzy, like everything was spinning and drifting around him. His lungs and throat were on fire, convulsing and straining for air.

“Got it?”

The words barely registered, but he knew it was a question. How was he supposed to respond in this state? He felt like he would be able to breathe again if he gave an answer, so he would have to try.

Hiccup attempted to use his vocal chords, but all that came out was a choking noise followed by a squeak. Then he realized that he was still kicking his legs, weak as it was, and he stopped. That would have to be answer enough.

After a few torturous, dizzying seconds of being still, Dagur let go of his neck.

Hiccup took in a huge, wheezing breath, coughed, then inhaled again. Dagur now had both his arms wrapped gently around his waist, but he hardly cared at the moment. At least he wasn’t strangling him anymore.

It took a few minutes for Hiccup’s breathing to regulate and Dagur was silent during this time, left hand stroking up and down his side. He tried not to go into a panic again, remained perfectly still save for the rise and fall of his chest. He felt the need to say something, but he didn’t know what, didn’t want to anger the man who had control over him.

“There, there, Hiccup.” He patted his side before continuing his caressing. “You alright now?”

He had no idea how Dagur wanted him to respond, so he didn’t, stubbornly pursing his lips. It suddenly hit him how tired he was, but he couldn’t possibly sleep, not with Dagur holding him so close and breathing down his neck. And, the sooner he fell asleep, the sooner he’d be enduring his branding. Despite the blankets, the unwanted body heat, and the fire, he shivered.

“Oh, is this about tomorrow?” Dagur crooned, nuzzling his neck with his nose. Hiccup just set his jaw and didn’t otherwise move or react. That was probably what Dagur wanted him to do. “Don’t worry, Hiccup, I’ll be holding you.”

_Yeah, holding me down so I don’t screw it up._

“And then you’ll finally see that you’re mine,” Dagur continued, sounding rather content. “Mine forever and ever.” He rested his head on his shoulder. “And ever.”

Hiccup found himself wishing that Dagur could have squeezed his neck harder and snapped his windpipe. There would have been no fixing that.


	18. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! The next chapter! Sorry this took so long to get out. I haven't been doing very well recently, both physically and emotionally. Though, not to worry: my emotional state is getting better!
> 
> This chapter definitely has lighter moments. *cough* Tufflout. *cough* Excuse me, sorry. I had something in my throat. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Snotlout stood outside the stables with his arms crossed, watching the steady approach of Berk’s fleet. He and the other dragon riders had had to add to the Edge’s small docks to make room for all the ships. They hadn’t had large docks in the first place because almost all travel was by dragon.

He let himself admit that he was nervous. The last time he had seen the fleet all gathered together like this had been years ago when they went off to Dragon Island and had ended up battling the Red Death. The fleet being here meant business.

Of course it wasn’t the whole fleet though. Half the boats were still at Berk. Stoick was smart and wouldn’t leave the island unprotected, but he knew they were going to have to make some sort of stand here.

Thinking about the chief, Snotlout frowned. They all had yet to tell him what was really going on. How on Thor’s green Earth were they going to tell Stoick the Vast that Dagur wanted _his son_ as a _consort?_ His stomach clenched and there was the threatening sting of tears. Sure, he was a jerk to Hiccup sometimes and he liked messing around with him, but this was his _cousin_ , one of his _best friends_ , (though he’d probably never admit to that out loud.) He didn’t care how bad someone was: no one deserved for that to happen to them against their will, especially not Hiccup.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, boyo?”

Snotlout started at the sound of his father’s voice. He’d been so deep in thought that he hadn’t noticed him approach.

“Just, um, wondering how Hiccup’s doing.” Snotlout made sure not to use the word ‘worrying.’ Worry was a thing Jorgensons weren’t supposed to feel. He had to be careful with what he said around his dad.

“Aye,” Spitelout agreed grimly with a nod. “But perhaps it would be more productive to wonder _where_ he is instead.”

“Yeah, I know,” Snotlout responded glumly. He had known his dad would say something like that. “We’ll just all have to keep scouting. Going out for longer trips.”

Spitelout was quiet for a moment, also watching the approaching ships. “I like a good battle here and there to stave off the boredom, but I don’t like it on two fronts. One war at a time, hey?”

Snotlout just nodded and tightened his jaw. War. He didn’t like that word, didn’t want to say it. It was all too obvious just from the changes in their day-to-day life that that’s what was happening. There was an awful tension in the air, smothering and inescapable. Everyone was fidgety and on edge, and sleep was hard to come by and appetites were low. The ever-talkative Gustav didn’t open his mouth as often. Even he realized how serious this was.

And the riders were worse off than everyone else, burdened with the knowledge of what Dagur truly wanted with Hiccup. Stoick had barely spoken a word to any of them since that last meeting, just shot them glares in passing. The aura of anger surrounding him made him even less approachable than usual. Snotlout was almost convinced that one, or maybe all of them, were going to die when they told him.

There was suddenly a whoosh of air and the twins came swooping by on Barf and Belch.

“Hey, Snot!” Tuffnut called. “Dragon rider meeting in the clubhouse!”

“I suppose I should come too then,” Spitelout said.

“No, no.” Ruffnut held out her hand in a halting gesture. “No auxiliary riders.” 

Spitelout grumbled something under his breath that might have been an expletive while the twins flew off. Snotlout had already begun striding towards the stables where Hookfang had decided to take an afternoon nap.

“Are you and your friends keeping secrets?” Spitelout asked from behind him, sounding accusatory.

Snotlout turned to him. “Uh, what? No. We’ve just, um, got our own business, ya know?”

His dad frowned and didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he waved his hand. “Bah, alright. Go off to your meeting then.”

_Thank the gods._

Snotlout entered the stables and opened Hookfang’s pen. The dragon was still asleep, snoring out little spurts of smoke.

“Hey, Hooky, we’ve got some stuff to do,” Snotlout told him. He patted him on the snout. “Come on, get up.”

Hookfang made a discontented rumbling noise and peeked open one eye. Then he snorted and closed it again.

Snotlout gave an exasperated sigh. “Hookfang, you can sleep later! Let’s go! I have somewhere to be.”

Hookfang opened both his eyes this time, snorted again, obviously grumpy, but then stood. He arched his back and stretched himself out, yawning, then followed Snotlout out of the stables. His dad was thankfully gone, having taken off on his own dragon.

Snotlout hopped off of Hookfang once they landed at the clubhouse. He was met with quiet and tension when he went inside. He’d been the last to arrive.

“Oh great. This is about having to tell Stoick, isn’t it?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Fishlegs answered in obvious distress. He was sitting at the table and shifting nervously. Both the twins were standing, and Snotlout made his way over to Tuffnut without really thinking about it. “We can’t just keep this from him forever.”

“But I wasn’t really planning on dying today!” Ruffnut exclaimed nervously. “I mean, I’ve got nothing against death, but like, I hadn’t scheduled it to be so soon.”

“Yeah, my calendar’s booked,” Tuffnut agreed.

“Guys, come on! Be serious here!” Fishlegs cried.

“We are being serious,” Tuffnut responded. “You want us to tell the chief that, um, well, you know! How do you think he’s going to react to that? By making us tea? Though, you know, I kind of do want some tea…” He tapped his chin in thought.

“Hey, stay on target.” Snotlout snapped his fingers in front of his face and he jolted back to attention. “Guys, I don’t want to do this anymore than the rest of you,” he began, addressing everyone. “But we really do have to tell him.”

“Great idea, Snotlout!” Ruffnut pointed at him. “You tell him!”

“That’s not what I meant!”

Fishlegs drew their attention by standing. “We _all_ have to tell him, okay? Team effort, because this isn’t easy for any of us.” 

“Ugh, fine,” Tuffnut grudgingly agreed. “But how do we even word it? Put it gently or just: blam!” He pounded his fist into his hand, accidentally elbowing Snotlout in the process. 

“I’m thinking try to put it gently,” Fishlegs answered. 

“ _Oh_ , so maybe he’ll return the favor and _kill_ us gently!” Ruffnut piped in. “I see.” She tapped her forehead. “Very smart.”

“ _Urgh!_ Ruff could you-”

“Hey, I’m just trying to add a little humor to all of this, okay?” Ruffnut interrupted Fishlegs, spreading her hands innocently. “I’m getting sick of the constant gloom and doom. It lost its novelty _really_ quick.”

“Whatever,” Fishlegs grumbled. “Snotlout, you can be the one to get him here, and make sure he loses his axe before he gets inside.”

Snotlout wanted to protest, but he just tightened his jaw and nodded. There was no way of getting around this.

“But we’ll have to do it later,” Fishlegs said. “When he’s not so busy, because then he’d be in an even worse mood.”

“Eek, that would be bad,” Tuffnut agreed, cringing slightly. “But, uh, yeah, if we’re done here, I’m gonna go get some alone time.” He grabbed Snotlout by the elbow. “Come along, Snotlout.”

“Dude, I’m not sure you know what alone time means,” Snotlout said as he was pulled along. 

“I meant alone time from Ruff,” Tuff explained, nodding his head back towards his sister.

“Hey!”

“Sorry, sis. No third wheels.” Tuffnut shook his head. “Why would something even have three wheels anyway? Like, how would that even work? Where would you put it?”

Tuffnut stopped at Hookfang, and suddenly started climbing into the saddle. Hookfang turned his head and gave him a questioning look.

“Tuff, what are you doing?” Snotlout asked.

“It’s a surprise. Get on.”

“Shouldn’t I be flying Hookfang?” Snotlout climbed on behind Tuffnut, curious and confused all at once.

“Uh, _no_. You don’t know where we’re going.” Tuffnut excitedly grabbed onto Hookfang’s horns. “Come on, Hookfang! Let’s go!”

Hookfang gave a snort, but then took off. Once Snotlout figured they were far enough away from the base, he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Tuffnut’s waist.

“I hate having to hide this from my dad,” he admitted rather sullenly. “Like seriously: pretty much everyone else is okay with letting people date whoever they want, but not him.”

“Isn’t that ’cause he wants you to marry and carry on the Jorgenson name?” Tuff questioned.

“Yeah, but the girls hate me!” Snotlout exclaimed. “And Astrid’s with Hiccup, so it’s a lost cause there.”

“But hey, at least you actually _like_ girls,” Tuffnut said. “My mom kind of wants me to marry.” He shuddered. “Ugh! Me marrying a _girl?_ Can you imagine? I kissed a girl once and it was awful!”

“What? Really? Who?” Snotlout asked in quick succession, perking up a bit.

“The seamstress’ daughter,” he answered. “I fully admit to running away after.”

Snotlout couldn’t help laughing at that. “Of course you did!”

Tuffnut turned slightly to look at him. “Hey! Don’t laugh at me! It was scary!” He dramatically looked off into the distance and breathed: “I had nightmares for weeks.”

“Oh, you are such a _drama_ queen!”

“Really?” he asked excitedly. “I don’t remember being crowned. Was it a good ceremony?”

Snotlout released his hold on him with one hand so that he could slap his palm to his forehead in exasperation.

“Oh! We’re here!” They descended into a clearing in the forest, and Tuffnut hopped off once Hookfang landed.

Snotlout looked around, unimpressed. “Seriously? What’s so special about this place?”

“Um, excuse me, do you not know what a picnic blanket looks like?” Tuffnut gestured to a blanket spread out on the grass. There was a covered basket next to it. “I hope you’re hungry, Snotman, because there’s food too.” He grabbed his hand and pulled him off of Hookfang. “Come on.”

“Hold on, did you actually plan a _date?_ ” Snotlout asked in astonishment. Tuffnut really wasn’t the thoughtful type.

“Well yeah. Thought it would be a good idea, ya know, before we all die. I mean, there are a lot of people that want to kill us. Viggo wants to kill us, Ryker wants to kill us, Stoick’s gonna want to kill us. Hey! Dagur can kill us too when we save Hiccup! Yeah!”

“Tuffnut, you sound way too cheerful for making a list of who wants to kill us,” Snotlout noted as they both sat down on the blanket. “Also, that doesn’t really instill a whole lot of confidence.”

“Oh, um, right. Hehe.” He reached for the basket, lowered his voice to a whisper at his next words. “I know you like chicken, so I brought you some.” He looked around as if his pet would suddenly pop out of the woods. “Just don’t tell Chicken. She’ll peck my nose off.”

“Tuff, I don’t think chickens can do that.”

“Oh, she’ll find a way, that devious little chicken,” he responded proudly. “Takes after me.”

“I can’t believe you named a chicken Chicken.” 

“I mean, she’s a chicken.”

“Yeah, but at least Belch has an actual name,” Snotlout pointed out.

“Duh. I’m not gonna name _him_ Chicken. He’s a dragon.”

“Tuff, that’s not what I-!” Snotlout cut himself off, realizing it was pointless. “Never mind. Let’s just eat.”

 

 

“Heya, chief!” Snotlout jogged to catch up with Stoick, who looked to be heading towards the stables. He’d been spending a lot of time with Toothless lately. The poor dragon was anxious and upset.

Stoick stopped and glowered at him. “What is it?” he asked, clearly unhappy.

_Oh shit, we’re gonna die._

“You, um, wanna come to the clubhouse? Grab some dinner? You could probably use some dinner, right?” Snotlout tried to keep his voice steady. The way the chief was looking at him with a half-glare was definitely not helping his nerves. He noted that he had his axe strapped to his back. How was he supposed to get rid of it?

“Not at the moment, no.” He turned and began to stride away. Snotlout ran a couple steps and grabbed his arm. The chief shot him a look that could probably make a yak’s hair stand on end and he quickly pulled his hand back.

“Okay, actually, Fishlegs, the twins and I want to talk to you,” he told him. It looked like the easiest way to get him there would be to tell the truth.

Stoick raised his eyebrows. “You do, do ya? About what?”

“Um, stuff,” Snotlout answered uncomfortably. “Let’s go. Oh, and you really don’t have to bring your axe with you. It’s not like there’s a battle or anything.”

“No, actually, I think I’ll keep it.”

Snotlout clapped his hands together. “Okay, great. But I’m just letting you know that you won’t need it.”

“Why do you care if I take my axe with me or not?” Stoick asked skeptically. “You carry a sword almost everywhere.” He gestured to the sword sheathed at Snotlout’s belt.

“Uh, no reason. Let’s just go.”

It took a little longer than usual to get to the clubhouse, as they had to push past people carrying logs and weapons and all sorts of other things. Construction of buildings to house Berk’s warriors was already well under way.

Fishlegs looked dismayed when Stoick entered with his axe, then shot Snotlout an angry look. He spread his hands in an apologetic gesture, then made sure that the door was closed behind them. No one else had to hear what they were going to say.

Fishlegs and the twins were seated at the table. Tuffnut plastered a smile on his face, but for all his acting skills, it still looked fake, his nerves clearly showing through.

“Hey, chief, good to see you,” he said.

“What did you bring me here for?” Stoick inquired without greeting any of them. Right down to business. 

“To, uh… to tell you something,” Ruffnut answered. She couldn’t manage to keep eye contact with him, gaze flitting between him and the floor. Snotlout made his way over to join his friends, feeling much better being closer to them than to their soon-to-be-furious chief.

“About what’s really going on, then?” he guessed.

“Yes,” Fishlegs squeaked.

“Alright, let’s hear it.” Stoick crossed his arms over his chest, looking at them all expectantly.

 _Crap._

The Dragon Riders looked between each other, wondering who would speak first. Now that they actually had Stoick here in front of them, it felt impossible.

“Okay, so, we all know Dagur has Hiccup,” Snotlout started after a deep breath. It would be easier to just start out with what Stoick already knew and build it from there.

“And you’re wondering why he won’t attack us,” Ruffnut added on.

“And how we know that Hiccup’s still alive,” Fishlegs continued. “He, um…” He rubbed at his face with one hand. 

“Come on all of you. Out with it,” Stoick commanded. “You brought me here to tell me, so tell me.”

“Uh, so, you obviously remember the war with the Berserkers a few years back,” Snotlout said. 

“Yes…?” Stoick prompted. “I don’t understand. If it was still about that, Toothless wouldn’t be here with us.”

“He didn’t go to war with us because of Toothless,” Snotlout said.

“Yeah.” That was Tuffnut. “He, uh, went to war because of Hiccup.”

Stoick was looking very perplexed. “I don’t follow.”

“Okay, I’ll just say it!” Snotlout exclaimed. Dragging this out was making him feel even worse. “Dagur went to war because he wanted Hiccup, and that’s why he came after him again once he got out of prison. So Dagur won’t attack because he has Hiccup. He doesn’t care about the rest of us.”

“You’ve only answered one of my questions.” Stoick narrowed his eyes dangerously. “What does he want him for?”

Snotlout opened his mouth, but he didn’t have the courage to speak. None of them had even openly spoken about what was happening to Hiccup; the whole situation was just so disturbing. None of the others spoke either, leaving them in a silence with tension so thick it could be cut with a knife.

“Dagur thinks he’s in love with Hiccup!” Fishlegs suddenly blurted out. 

A look of horror took over Stoick’s features. “What?”

“That’s why he took him!” Snotlout cried in distress. “He thinks he’s in love with him and he wants Hiccup as his consort!” He felt tears stinging at his eyes. It hurt just to think about what his cousin and friend was being put through, never mind saying it out loud.

Stoick’s eyes went big, mouth gaping. Shock had overridden him, but Snotlout knew the fury would come next. 

And it did. Quickly.

“ _I’m going to kill him!_ ” he bellowed. His axe was suddenly in his hands and he was lunging in the direction of the Dragon Riders. He swung his axe down, and Snotlout yelped and jumped away. The table split in two and the twins went scrambling. Then, with a savage roar, Stoick flung his axe, embedding it in the nearest wall. 

Everything fell silent and Stoick crashed to his knees, as if all his energy had been drained from him. Snotlout didn’t know what to do. 

“Chief, we’ll find him,” Fishlegs finally said, voice quiet. He stood and went over to him, hesitantly placed a hand on his shoulder. Surprisingly, Stoick didn’t try to throw his hand off.

“Why didn’t he tell me?” His voice was broken, and it felt like a spike had been driven through Snotlout’s chest. He’d never heard his chief like that before.

“He didn’t even tell _us_ , actually,” Tuffnut informed him. “We just caught on to it.”

“We think the only person he actually told was Astrid,” Ruffnut said.

“But why?”

“He was probably too embarrassed to,” Snotlout answered. “And I think he feels that it’s his fault.”

Stoick shook his head in such a hopeless way. “He should have told me. I could have… I would have killed Dagur instead of letting Alvin imprison him. Then he wouldn’t have him now.”

“Chief, there’s nothing you can do to change that,” Fishlegs said gently. “All there is to do now is to find him and rescue him.”

Stoick didn’t say anything. After a moment or two, he nodded, then stood, brushing Fishlegs’ hand away. “Alright. Then let’s find him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, please leave a comment and let me know if you're enjoying it. I'm not asking for anything super long and analytical. It's just nice to know what you guys think. I hope that I'm not boring you with the parts that don't involve Hiccup. I'm trying hard not to. The next chapter will be a Heather and Astrid one.


	19. Chapter 18

“ _Dragons?!_ ” one of the councilmen, Thorn, exclaimed incredulously. Heather and Astrid were eating dinner with the council, and they had decided to break the news about their friendship with dragons. 

“Uh, yeah,” Heather answered. “I have a Razorwhip named Windshear.”

“And I have a Deadly Nadder named Stormfly,” Astrid added. As the new chief, Heather was seated at the head of the table, but Astrid had been allowed to sit near her. The two of them were both still uncomfortable about being in a new place, even though they had had their weapons returned to them.

“And you ride them?” the council spokeswoman, Hilda, asked. Her eyes were wide in astonishment, but she seemed more curious than anything else.

“Yep,” Astrid replied. “But we came by boat because we didn’t want to scare anyone.” She took a bite of mutton.

“Or get shot out of the sky.”

“Mm, that too.”

“Did you bring the dragons with you?” Hilda questioned. “Where are they now?”

“We left them on the ship and told them to go to the far side of the island away from any people if they got antsy,” Heather explained. “They should be back there by morning. I was hoping we’d be able to retrieve them and show them to you then.”

“How do you know that they won’t harm anyone?” another man asked. Astrid hadn’t caught his name. He was looking very worried.

“They’re not naturally aggressive creatures,” Heather told him. “Windshear and Stormfly are well trained.”

There was a moment of silence on their end of the table as what had been said was thought over. Astrid continued eating, but Heather didn’t, just sitting rigidly and looking from person-to-person. She’d barely touched anything on her plate.

Astrid prodded Heather with her knee to get her attention, then nodded towards her plate when she glanced at her. She frowned at her, then the food, and Astrid worried that she wasn’t going to eat, but then she picked up her discarded fork.

She could understand why Heather wasn’t particularly hungry. They were in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by strangers, and a war they had yet to inform them about was brewing outside. Not to mention that they had no idea where Hiccup was.

 _No, no, don’t think about him,_ Astrid told herself as her stomach lurched. She tightened her lips. _Not now._

“I suppose that makes sense,” Thorn said. “We haven’t had a dragon attack since Hiccup Haddock killed the Red Death. And Dagur confirmed that he did ride a Night Fury.”

Heather’s eyes narrowed. “Do not talk about my brother.” It was an angered command.

Thorn seemed taken aback by her reaction. “O-of course, lady Heather. My apologies.”

“We’d like to show the people the dragons and that there can be peace and friendship with them,” Astrid said, trying to override the sudden tension.

“I do think that’s a good idea,” Hilda said.

Heather gave a curt nod. “Good. Windshear is a big part of my life and I can’t just abandon her because I’ve become a chief. Even Stoick the Vast rides a dragon.”

“He does?” the nameless man asked.

“A Rumblehorn named Skullcrusher.”

“What’s the Night Fury’s name?” Thorn inquired.

“Toothless.” The councilman gave Astrid an odd look at her answer, so she went on to explain: “His teeth are retractable. He doesn’t have them out all the time.”

“That’s remarkable!” Thorn commented. “Are there any others?”

Astrid shook her head. “Not that we no of.” Talking of Toothless hurt too, but she buried the pain so that she would be able to focus on what was going on in the moment. 

The rest of dinner was spent talking about dragons, Astrid and Heather sharing their knowledge and stories about them. They told funny stories about their dragons to put them more at ease about seeing them the next day.

Afterwards, they were escorted from the dining hall to where they would be sleeping for now. They had planned on giving Astrid a room separate from Heather, but she’d requested otherwise. 

Now they were alone in the large bedchamber. Just like the rest of the rooms in the castle, it was more extravagant than either of them were used to. There were couches and chairs in front of a lit fireplace, and a copper bathtub behind a wooden separating screen. The bed was more than big enough for two people, and there were candles set on each of the nightstands beside it.

“Okay, this place is crazy,” Astrid said as she took in her surroundings. She took her axe from her belt and set it against the wall.

“Yeah,” Heather agreed. “I didn’t know that my family actually lived like this.”

“This bed is huge!” Astrid exclaimed as she sat down on it. Her rear hit something cushiony instead of the wood she had expected, and she bounced a little bit. She looked at it in confusion.

“Something wrong with the bed?”

Astrid bounced a little to test it, then laid back. It was all just so soft.

“Definitely not,” she said with a smile. “It’s like… It’s like a giant pillow or something!”

“Really?” Heather asked, stepping over. She sat down beside Astrid, looking rather surprised once she did. 

Astrid had a sudden playful urge, and she climbed to her feet, standing on the bed.

“What are you doing?” Heather raised her eyebrows at her.

“It’s bouncy!” Astrid exclaimed. She jumped up and down a little. “See? Come on!”

With a laugh, Heather joined her. Astrid knew that they must both look like absolute lunatics jumping around on the bed, but she couldn’t help herself. 

“We – We have nothing like this on Berk,” she gasped out through fits of giggles. “Why didn’t we think of this?”

Heather laughed too. “Imagine if someone walked in right now!” 

Astrid stopped and doubled over, clutching her stomach. “They wouldn’t know what to think! Is that our new chief jumping on a bed?!”

Heather jumped up high and then flopped down onto her back. The movement made Astrid lose her footing and she toppled down next to her on her stomach. The two of them didn’t say anything for a while, just laughed. Then they laid there trying to catch their breath.

Astrid suddenly felt guilty for laughing. Having such a positive emotion didn’t feel right with everything that was going on, and especially since she knew Hiccup wouldn’t be laughing with what he was going through. She rolled onto her side to face Heather. Her friend was looking up at the ceiling with her hands folded over her stomach.

“How did we get here, Heather?” she asked forlornly.

“Hm?” She turned her head to look at her.

“I mean, how did our lives come to this?” Astrid clarified. “Two weeks ago everything was relatively fine. You were safely undercover with the Dragon Hunters, Dagur was under some semblance of control, total war hadn’t broken out, the rest of us were on Dragon’s Edge. Now look at where we are!”

Heather frowned. “It has gotten really crazy, hasn’t it?”

Astrid released a heavy sigh, a feeling of hopelessness washing over her. It was like she was being crushed under an avalanche. There were other things that were on her mind, but they curled her stomach to think about, never mind actually voicing them. Heather, having slept with Dagur, would have the best idea of what Hiccup was facing, but she couldn’t possibly discuss any of that with her. Astrid didn’t even really know how she felt about that whole thing. Heather had told her a while back – before the rest of the Dragon Riders knew that she was actually working with them – that she’d been having sexual relations with her brother. She was disturbed by it, especially knowing what kind of person Dagur was, but at the same time, she still didn’t judge her for it. The main reason had been to make Dagur trust her, and she could understand that. She could also understand how Heather wouldn’t necessarily realize that such a thing was wrong: she hadn’t exactly had a normal life. But just the idea of _anyone_ having sex with that deranged lunatic – she held back a shudder. And poor Hiccup! He didn’t even want it! To think that someone was touching him in such ways without his consent…

“Astrid?” 

She was jolted out of her thoughts by Heather’s voice and her hand on her arm. Her eyes flitted up to meet hers. 

“What are you thinking about? You started going green.” Heather sounded concerned.

“Nothing,” Astrid replied curtly. She sat and pulled up her knees. “It’s nothing.” 

Heather sat up too. She didn’t say anything, but she could feel her looking at her expectantly.

“I’m thinking about Dagur,” she admitted in defeat. “And Hiccup.”

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” Astrid lowered her head, felt tears stinging at her eyes. She was furious, but also just so tired, so distressed by everything that was going on.

“Astrid…” Heather began, but then sighed. “I don’t know what to say. This is just so messed up.”

Silence. Astrid could feel a sob building in her throat. She swallowed, trying to hold it in.

“I hate him, you know,” Heather said. “So don’t go thinking I’ll side with him or sympathize with him.”

“I’m… I’m not.” Her voice was choked up.

“Good, because I’ll chop his head off as willingly as you would,” Heather told her. She placed a hand on her shoulder. “I admit that my feelings regarding him are complicated, and that my relationship with him is beyond that, but right now I just hate him. He’s a monster, Astrid, and he needs to be put down.”

Astrid bit her lower lip and nodded. There was no better word to use to describe Dagur.

She was suddenly being pulled into Heather’s arms. She didn’t try to stop her or pull away, and rested her head against her chest, letting a sob escape. Her chest ached.

“No more thinking about that right now, okay? There’s nothing we can do about it in the moment.” Heather sounded on the verge of tears. Astrid heard a sniffle. She nodded.

“G-good. We should think about how we’re going to introduce our dragons.”

“W-we can p-put on a b-bit of a show,” Astrid suggested. “I’m s-sure they would l-l-like that. And it w-would be f-fun too.” She maneuvered so that she had her arms free and wiped at her face, trying to stop her crying.

“Sounds good to me,” Heather agreed. “And after that we can get down to the real business, okay?”

Astrid lifted her head to look at her, forced a small smile onto her lips. “Okay.”


	20. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The events of this chapter weren't exactly supposed to happen, but Hiccup and Dagur are both little shits that took over. Enjoy sin.

Dagur ghosted his fingers over Hiccup’s left leg, starting at his thigh and then traveling downwards. His flesh was soft and smooth until he got closer to his knee. It became more rugged and rough with scarring as he continued past the knee, towards the stump of his leg. He stroked his hand over the damaged limb, marveling at how Hiccup seemed to handle it so well. He couldn't really imagine losing a part of his body like that.

The younger man would have been protesting the touching, had he been awake, especially this part of him which certainly still brought him pain from time-to-time.  
Man. Hiccup was a man now, and a beautiful one at that. Something about his long, lithe body and subtle but strong muscles drove Dagur crazy. Well, not that he wasn't crazy already, but crazy in a different way.

He grinned, trailing his fingers back up and then over his hip and side, taking in every inch of him. It was a wonder that he was finally touching him like this, and that he could do more, _had_ done more. 

Dagur groaned softly as his member began to swell at the memory of it and the desire for more, straining against his clothing. He pulled Hiccup towards his body, pressing his groin against the delicious curve of his naked backside. It took all of his resolve to keep from dry humping him. No. He would wait until he was awake. It wouldn’t be satisfying unless both of them were experiencing the fiery connection and intimacy. 

Oh, and the way he would move underneath him, those beautiful sounds of his singing in his ears. Unable to help himself, he wrapped one leg around him, attempted to pull him closer still. He wished that he could untie him, leave his hands free to do whatever he commanded them to do, but Hiccup wouldn’t listen. He was stubborn and defiant, two traits of his that irritated Dagur and pleased him at the same time. He wished that he would reciprocate, that he would willingly give back to him. Couldn’t he see that he didn’t necessarily have to please him, but he was anyway? Hiccup didn’t have to enjoy any of this unless Dagur wanted him to, and of course he wanted him to, because by the gods, he was _hot_ when he was enjoying it.

 _He has no idea how happy I could be just pleasuring him all day without bothering to take care of myself._ But then again, he wouldn’t have to. He was certain he could come just from the sight of Hiccup writhing under his touch, sweating and moaning and begging, his perfect cock throbbing and-

The Dragon Rider shifted against him, made a small whimpering noise.

_Yes, he’s waking up!_

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he crooned, dragging his lips over his ear. Gods but he wanted him now. Right now. “Sleep well?”

“Get off,” Hiccup mumbled in answer, almost unintelligible.

“Not really a morning person, are you?” Dagur couldn't help teasing. It was fun to annoy him.

Hiccup moved a little in his grasp, tiredly trying to get himself free. Dagur grinned. That wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

“Me neither,” he continued, hoping that Hiccup would begin talking to him soon. It was much more entertaining when he talked with him. “But, you see, I woke up ’cause I’ve got this little problem.” He bumped his groin forward. “Well, actually it’s a rather big one if you’ll take the time to notice.” He started laughing at his own joke, squeezed Hiccup tighter, who grunted in protest.

“Hey! Do _want_ to crush me?!” Hiccup’s words were choked.

 _Whoops._ Dagur lightened his hold on him and even removed his leg, not wanting to damage him further. It was so easy to forget how fragile Hiccup was compared to him, though sometimes that thought alone could turn him on.

He rocked his hips into him again while he was working on catching his breath. He desperately wanted more contact, wanted to be free of his pants and feel Hiccup’s skin hot against his, craved the feeling of the smaller man’s body squeezing greedily around his member, and the wet glory of his mouth…

“I was hoping you could help me with it,” Dagur panted, lips seeking out the already marked flesh of his neck. Hiccup squirmed a little at this.

“You’ve got hands,” he retorted, still as defiant as ever. “Take care of it yourself.”

“Uh, but that would be _boring._ ” He rocked into him rather hard. Oh, but that felt good. “Or have you not discovered that yet? Has that Astrid bitch sated your needs yet? Have you fucked her?”

“Don't you dare talk about her! You don't get to do that!” Hiccup twisted so that he was facing him, expression set in a glare.

“Well, I was wondering if I’d taken your virginity,” Dagur stated simply. It was his right to do that, wasn't it?

Hiccup laughed dryly, mockingly. “Nope, asshole. _We_ beat you to it. And I say we because it was consensual.”

Dagur ground his teeth together, irritated with the victorious smirk on Hiccup’s battered, but still handsome face. He’d have to wipe that off.

He growled in anger as he lunged forward and attacked his lips, Hiccup making a protesting “mmph!”. Astrid. Of course that blonde-haired bitch had stolen Hiccup from him. That whore! He’d have to kill her now, but only after he had his way with her and fucked her senseless.

He worked at Hiccup’s unwilling mouth. He just wanted every part of him, wanted to taste it and claim it. The Dragon Rider was trying uselessly to pull away, and Dagur grabbed his shoulder with one hand, the other squeezing the magnificent flesh of his thigh. 

_Or maybe I could capture her and have Hiccup fuck her, put on a show for me._

He grew harder at the image, pried his mouth open with his tongue and darted it inside. Hiccup didn't try to bite him, ceased his fighting and remained perfectly still. It wasn't exactly the cooperation he’d been hoping for, but he’d settle with it for now.

_Ooh, what if all three of us go at each other? That would be brilliant. That's a really good idea._

Dagur ran his tongue all along the inside of Hiccup’s mouth, trying to reach places he hadn't before. It was his. It was all his. Why couldn't Hiccup understand that?

He rolled himself on top of him, migrating the hand on his thigh to grasp at his cock. It wasn't erect yet, but he’d soon fix that. He groaned against his mouth, remembering how beautiful Hiccup’s body was when it was needy and ready for sex.

Dagur traveled his hand fiercely over his member, opening his eyes to watch his reactions. The younger man arched against him and grunted into his mouth, squirmed. His eyes were tightly shut and his muscles taut. That wouldn't do. Dagur had to make him soft and yielding, languid.

He reluctantly withdrew his tongue from his mouth and pulled his lips away, but he wouldn't be without the taste of Hiccup for very long. He squeezed his hand around the head of Hiccup’s swelling length so that his body arched again and his head went back, revealing his lovely neck that was flecked with marks of red. 

Dagur went in for it before Hiccup could realize what he was up to. A lovely noise rose from his throat as he began kissing it. It had been a victory to learn that his Hiccup was so sensitive here.

“Dagur, st-stop.”

“Is that really what you want me to do?” In an attempt to prove him wrong, he ran his hand up and down over his dick. Hiccup gave a cry and his whole body seemed to be reaching for him. His hips came up, his neck curved into his hungry mouth. It was a wondrous thing.

“Stop - _awww…_ Touching me.” The pleased note in his voice didn't suit his argument well.

Dagur heaved a laugh against his skin, feeling Hiccup’s breath rushing in and out of his windpipe, chest rapidly moving up and down. He desperately wanted to lose himself in him, drown in his scent and his feel and his sound. 

He pulled himself up, but only to grab Hiccup’s bound wrists and yank his arms above his head. Dagur held onto him with his knees as he thrashed and struggled under him. Watching his body move was an amazing thing, but he would have preferred it in a way other than him trying to get away.

“You know, I wish I didn't have to have you tied up every time I wanted to fuck you,” Dagur told Hiccup, who was still struggling in vain. “I’m not _that_ kinky.” He held his arms above him with one hand, the other traveling towards his neck. It was a splendid sight covered in the little bruises and red marks he had left the night before. The right side of his neck was dark with black and purple bruises from Viggo’s little torture session, but that was okay. Those would fade, and besides, he found himself liking it when Hiccup was in pain.

“But oh man, it would be hot if you had a collar,” Dagur continued, returning to his fantasy from a few seconds ago. He had so many when it came to Hiccup it was hard to keep them all straight. And the idea that they could be reality… 

And the _power_ he felt from having his fingers wrapped around Hiccup’s neck. He could squeeze and crush it and kill him if he wanted, or he could torment him by cutting off his air supply and only letting it return before he fainted. He could… He could do anything!

Dagur shrieked out a laugh, high from the sensation of such power and domination. Once again, it seemed to hit him that this was real. This was Hiccup struggling underneath him, naked and beautiful Hiccup. _His_ Hiccup. 

In his sense of awe and manic glee, he found his mouth roaming over the spot where he would be branded that very same day. It would be glorious that brand, _his_ crest burned into Hiccup’s flesh, officially making him his. His, his, _his._

“I’m not your pet, Dagur!” Hiccup snapped, clearly insulted and disgusted by the collar comment. He was very noticeably trembling. “You can leash me like one, but I still won't be yours.” He could hear the uneasiness in his voice, the uncertainty. Hiccup didn't know whether he was going to break and succumb to his will at some point. Dagur was trying his hardest to make that happen.

He paused in sucking on his smooth, freckled skin to chuckle and then say, “And _I’m_ the delusional one.” Couldn't Hiccup see that he was already his, that nothing he did would change that? Hiccup had belonged to him since the moment he had been conceived and came into existence. Hel, he was even his before either of them had been _anything._

“Yeah, you really are.”

Dagur made his way down from his heaving chest to his stomach. It couldn't exactly be called kissing, what he was doing, more like an attempt to eat him. He claimed his skin with any part of his mouth: his lips, his teeth, his tongue. Hiccup would jerk and gasp each time he nipped him, all while fighting to bring his arms back down to cover himself. 

Dagur licked around his navel before speaking. “I’ve already seen everything. No point trying to hide.”

“I’m _trying_ to make you stop touching me!” Hiccup sounded fierce once again. Dagur was taken by surprise as he suddenly wrapped his legs around his head and used them to throw him off. The both of them ended up falling onto the ground however, the blankets trying to come with them. It was a tangle of furs and limbs, and it took Dagur a moment to realize that Hiccup was on top of him.

The Dragon Rider looked at him with big, startled green eyes. Everything was still for a moment or two, and then he tried bashing him in the face with his bound hands.

Dagur caught the blow on his right forearm, which actually hurt quite a bit despite Hiccup’s size. The younger man released a wordless shout of anger and raised his arms to try again. Before he could land a blow, Dagur grabbed him around the waist and rolled, shoving him hard into the ground. Hiccup grunted as the air went out of him, stopped fighting to catch his breath.

“Your little attempts at fighting me off are amusing,” Dagur informed him.

Hiccup responded with a scream of fury and despair, thrashing, trying to hit him again. 

“And also irritating!” Dagur decided. He slammed his arms down, latched his mouth to his and swallowed his scream. What was _wrong_ with him? If he stopped struggling and accepted it, he’d receive much better treatment. And how could he not yet see that Dagur wasn't only thinking about himself, that he was trying to please him too?

Anger flared through his veins along with lust. Oh, this little runt was in for it now. Images entered his mind of beating him and fucking him at the same time. Or maybe cutting and watching his blood run out of his body.

He broke the kiss with a primal-sounding growl, sat and pulled Hiccup with him. He allowed his arms to go back to cover his chest, but then he forced the front of his body over one of his legs, facedown. He curled his fingers into his hair and tugged his head up to force him to look at him. His face had gone white and his eyes were big and scared, just as they should be.

“Either you're going to apologize and beg for forgiveness and hope I’m merciful, or you're about to have the worst time of your life.” It was hard to keep himself from yelling.

Hiccup just looked at him silently, and Dagur’s lip curled in a sneer. He pulled harder on his hair so that he hissed in pain, but still he remained speechless.

“What? Have you gone dumb all of a sudden?!” Dagur shook him, trying to bring some sort of vocal response out of him.

“I-I won’t apologize f-for anything,” Hiccup finally stuttered. He was visibly shaking, and that sent a new thrill through Dagur’s body. He felt a weird sense of joy and anger at the same time. Anger at Hiccup for not apologizing, but also joy because he would be able to punish him for it.

“No? Nothing?” He was willing to give him one more chance before he basically destroyed him. The idea of Hiccup begging to him… He actually licked his lips.

There was a sudden spark in Hiccup’s eyes, a quick flare of courage. “Actually, I apologize for not killing you when I had the chance.”

Dagur didn't know whether to frown or smile, and this resulted in a creepy-looking grin to accompany the anger and hunger in his eyes.

“Well then it’s time to teach you a lesson, Hiccup.”

 

 

Remaining still and refusing to fight wasn’t in Hiccup’s nature, but he was trying anyway, as any of his physical, (and vocal,) acts of defiance resulted in more harm to his person, and he was already in agony. It was like Dagur was trying to use his manhood like a knife and tear him apart from the inside, while his actual knife traced threateningly over his skin, which had already been pierced numerous times. He was on his back, legs positioned over Dagur's shoulders to give him better access. Every time his legs slid off or he tried to move them, he would put them back at his shoulders. He’d ended up tying his arms to the pole to keep them above his head so he couldn’t use them to protect or hide himself. This left his abdomen open to any blows he landed on him, and there were many. He’d given up on trying to figure out if he’d broken anything else. 

Hiccup kept his eyes squeezed shut: there was no point in watching what was happening to him. Feeling it was already too much for him to handle. How was he supposed to endure this? And all the while he had to listen to Dagur’s grunts and moans and insults. It was mortifying, and he wished he could just sink into the ground beneath him and never resurface.

“You’re a stupid, stubborn, son of a bitch, you know that?!” His voice was angry and pleased all at the same time.

Hiccup resisted the urge to spit something back at him, though he couldn’t quite speak anyway. He just shouted at the pain inside of him, the burning and the blood. He twisted as Dagur punched him in the chest, the air fleeing from his body. He yelled loudly in despair and anguish when his breath returned to him, thrashing and writhing, ditching the idea of trying to stay still, though his movements tore at the large slash that started at his pelvis and arced into his left side. He had to get him off of him!

He yelped as the knife suddenly drew a line through the soft flesh of his underarm and a hand wrapped around one leg and grabbed him hard under the jaw, almost as if he was going to crush his face. He tried jerking his head away, but that just made it hurt more.

“You know, brother, I thought you were - _ughn_ \- smarter than this,” Dagur spoke over his pained cries. Enduring this silently was not an option, though the Berserker obviously liked the sounds he was bringing out of him. “I thought you would understand.”

Hiccup squirmed, grunted and then whimpered. “Ack!” His struggling had resulted in the knife going deeper into his arm.

“Look at me when I'm talking to you!” Dagur bellowed, slicing farther up his arm. Hiccup screamed as his flesh was slit open and the blood trickled hot over his skin. He couldn't bring himself to open his eyes. Looking at Dagur’s undoubtedly terrifying expressions would make this even worse.

“Open your damn eyes!” He commanded, cutting all the way to his elbow. “I want to see the pain in them!”

Hiccup tried to shake his head, scrunched up his face in a sad attempt to draw away from him. The knife was pulled from his arm, but the blade, wet with his blood, went to rest across his right cheek.

 _Okay, I can do this,_ he schooled himself. He didn't want to look at Dagur, but he didn't want him to cut his face either.

Hiccup forced his eyes open, terror flooding cold into him at what he was met with. He couldn't tell if Dagur was sneering or grinning, and his eyes were so many things: murderous, lustful, furious, satisfied, hostile. He wanted to hurt him and he was enjoying it. All the conflicting emotions resulted in a crazed expression characterized by sadistic pleasure.

And he knew what Dagur saw in his eyes: fear, panic, pain, humiliation. Looking at him and him looking back instantly made the experience ten times worse.

“ _Oh_ , there’s a good boy,” Dagur rasped out. 

Hiccup whimpered as he rocked his hips hard and fast between his legs. He felt a scream crawling up his throat, but he held it back. He couldn't scream while looking at Dagur. It was what the man wanted.

Dagur suddenly tossed the knife aside and pressed both his hands to his bruised, heaving chest, leaving spots of blood on his skin. They kept eye contact, Dagur silently commanding him to. Hiccup knew he wanted to make him scream, saw the determination in his eyes. He bit his lip, a whine rising from his throat. Gods, but it hurt so bad.

Dagur laughed, but it didn't turn into his usual shrieking. “You know, Hiccup, you're allowed to scream.”

“Fu-” he gasped out before Dagur cut him off.

“Fuck you? Yeah, I'm working on it.”

Hiccup finally broke eye contact and twisted his head away, whimpering and moaning and whining.

 _Gods, I sound so pathetic._ His cheeks burned red at the thought.

“Gah!” He jerked as Dagur’s teeth suddenly connected with his collarbone, and he bit hard enough to draw blood. That, along with the fact that he was now gripping his thighs almost hard enough to crush him, his thumb digging into a large cut on his right one, started him screaming again.

“Gods! _Argh!_ Stop it!” 

Hiccup threw his head back and then teeth gnawed sharply at the hollow of his throat. Dagur was using the grip on his legs to pull him in to each excruciating thrust, and the growl that came from him sounded more animal than human.

Hiccup tried pulling his body back from this invasion, but there was nowhere for him to go, no way to escape it. There didn't seem to be a way to endure it either.

_Gods, I wish he would just kill me._

Desperate tears welled up in his eyes at the thought. Yes, death would be so much better than this. If this was what his life was going to be, he didn't want it.

He didn't lower himself to begging however. He wouldn't ever beg for Dagur to kill him, even now when he was in more pain than his mind could even fathom. Besides, Dagur wouldn't kill him if he asked him to. He’d find it funny instead.

 _So I just have to make him mad enough to kill me by accident._ He would have to do it now. He didn't know how much more of this he could take.

But another thought entered his mind. What if Dagur didn't kill him even if he managed to infuriate him more? What if he just hurt him more than he already was?

_What the Hel am I supposed to do?!_

Hiccup released a hopeless sob that Dagur suddenly swallowed up with his mouth. The position put an unpleasant pressure on his back and hamstrings. He hadn't really imagined a person being able to bend like this.

Dagur's teeth dug into his bottom lip, and then he sucked at the blood that he drew. It was unnerving how he seemed to like the taste of it.

Dagur straightened and released his destructive hold on his legs, but just ended up punching him in the gut. Twice. Hiccup choked, lungs forgetting how to breathe, pain roping its way through his abdomen. He arched, unconsciously trying to escape the pain, trying to breathe, and Dagur hit him again. He was avoiding his face, but that didn't exactly make things better. His nerves screamed from receiving blows in already wounded areas, and his voice did the same once he managed to fill his lungs.

“Oh yeah! _That's_ the stuff! Scream for daddy, Hiccup!”

“What is - _argh!_ \- wrong with you?!” Hiccup shouted, absolutely disgusted by what Dagur had just said. 

Dagur didn't answer, ended up punching him in the slash he’d made on his right arm. Hiccup couldn't find his voice, and Dagur's next blow to the huge one in his side didn't help with that. 

The pain. The pain was the only thing he felt anymore. He didn't feel the ground underneath him or the chain around his foot or the rope around his wrists. All he could feel was that his body was being broken and torn up.

Then that disappeared, along with almost all sensation. There was a guttural roar that he knew didn't come from him, and a long, pitiful wail. Next, there was nothing, and he was gone.

 

 

Sensation was making its slow return, but he didn't have the strength to move or open his eyes. There was something terribly wrong, and it took him a few moments to put words to it: pain, agony.

Hiccup moaned quietly, turned his head. It felt like the shroud of unconsciousness wouldn't let him go, as he could hardly think and nothing was really registering or making sense. Maybe it would be best to allow it to take him again.

But it didn't feel like he was alone, wherever he was. There were maybe two people with him, moving around, speaking in low, muffled voices. 

Panic seized his muscles as flashes of memory came back to him. Terror. Pain. Blood. Screams. He tried to open his eyes, tried to move, but his body refused to listen to him, overwhelmed with fatigue and injury. The most he accomplished was a slight shift of his right leg and the slightest tug on his bonds. What was the point of keeping him restrained if he couldn't even move?

Hopelessness spread through him and he groaned despairingly. How was he even still alive?

Something touched his lips and he tiredly turned his head away from it, but a hand on his face pushed it back. There was an unfamiliar voice telling him that it was only water and he needed to drink it, and so he did. The cool liquid drove home how much his throat hurt from screaming, but he was parched, and he downed it as fast as he was allowed.

Hiccup flinched at the sensation of a heavy hand on his shoulder, but couldn't break through the fog of exhaustion to open his eyes or make a protest. What was being done to him now? All he managed was an anguished whimper.

A voice that flooded him with dread sang his name in his ear, then said something about hurting. Hurting? Wasn't he in enough pain already? He was fairly certain more torment would kill him. He was aware how almost every part of him was crusted with his own blood, something he would rather keep inside him.

Liquid was poured over his left side, and for a moment he felt nothing. Then the next second it felt as if someone had rubbed Monstrous Nightmare gel into the huge wound there and lit it. He somehow had enough of his voice left to scream. The action grated like razors in his throat and increased the pain in his chest and abdomen. But he couldn't help it. Why was he being hurt more? Hadn't he already been punished?

Hiccup’s screams eventually died as pressure was being put on the wound. His body heaved as it tried to find a breath that didn't hurt, but that only made it worse. He tried to struggle, but the message didn't make it to his limbs, and he instead remained still.

The unfamiliar voice asked him if he could try to relax, and he would have laughed at him if he had had the ability. Relax? Relax while he was being put through more pain?! It was ludicrous!

The other voice spoke softly, told Hiccup that he was helping him. He thought it was one of the biggest lies he’d heard in his life.

He gasped loudly at a sharp pain in his pelvis, managed to shift his legs a little. He turned his head and whimpered, the new pain following the path of his wound. It was slow and stinging and tugging, like something was being put through his flesh over and over. 

Hiccup felt like he couldn't take it anymore, but it just kept coming. He screamed, then sobbed, wishing for it to stop, wishing he had some way to get away from this. Fingers brushed away a wetness on his cheeks. 

He clenched his teeth down against the pain, vocalizing his torment in any way he could through them. His jaw ached.

A hand stroked his face, and the owner told him he was a good boy, that he was doing great. He would have cringed had he not already been completely overwhelmed by what was being inflicted on him.

Hiccup didn't know how long any of what was happening took. He moved in and out of consciousness, but there was agony no matter where his mind went. First the cut in his side, then his thigh, then finally the one on his arm. It all followed the same process: the fiery liquid, the awful pressure, and then the piercing and the tugging. There were times he was silent save for a few moans, and others where he would cry and scream and he remembered the words to plead with them to stop. They never listened.

He was made to drink more water, then a nasty tasting liquid that he nearly spit out. The unfamiliar voice told him it would help with the pain though, so he choked it down.

It seemed to be over. Hiccup was dozing now, if that’s what this state of consciousness could be called. There was a warm, wet cloth traveling carefully over his body, washing off all the blood. He didn't care who was doing this: he was just glad he would be clean. He also noticed for the first time that he had been untied. He left his arms where they were above his head though. No point in wasting precious energy on little movements.

“Do you understand now, Hiccup?”

“Huhm?” It felt like time had passed, like he had fallen asleep again. His skin felt wet.

A large thumb was drawn over his cheek, and he noticeably shivered. He didn't want to be touched.

“Ah, you’ll see soon enough I suppose.” He was patted lightly on the cheek and the hand withdrew. “Just get some rest for now. Don't want this next bit to kill you.”

One part of him was terrified and concerned, but another, dominating part agreed that rest was a good idea. It wasn't long before sensation disappeared again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the next chapter is the branding. *smiling devil emoji x666*


	21. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I take no responsibility for Dagur's actions in this chapter. Please don't ask me about it. Maybe ask him, even though he's pretty clueless about it too.

“Is that boy even alive, Dagur, or did you accidentally kill him?”

Dagur ground his teeth together at Savage’s use of the word ‘boy.’ He didn’t correct him though, and he reined in his anger to keep from crushing the broken, but _breathing_ body in his arms. Hiccup could pass for a corpse with his pale face and bruised form, but his chest was moving ever so slightly, the tiny part in his lips allowing Dagur to hear his breathing if he listened hard enough. Besides, he could even feel the air moving in and out of him, having him cradled in his lap with a blanket over his legs. Hiccup would have appreciated the privacy, and Dagur didn’t necessarily want to flaunt his wonderful, _living_ possession around. What if someone tried to take him from him?

“Yes, Savage, he’s alive,” Dagur drawled out in annoyance, holding Hiccup closer to him, his face pressed against his chest. “Not even I would hold a dead body like this. Besides, would I be branding him if he _wasn’t_ alive?” He raised his eyebrows at the man, seeing if he would argue with that logic. He wasn’t really his second-in-command. Dagur had no second-in-command. He just told him that and kept him close because he found him amusing and liked to have a punching bag nearby.

“Um, no, my lord, I suppose not.” He folded his hands in front of him in that anxious way that he did so often, the branding iron clasped in his fingers. Dagur wanted to do it himself, but he also wanted to hold Hiccup at the same time. He’d opted for holding him. No one else should be able to touch him.

“Now, are you gonna heat that thing, or are you just gonna stand there?”

“S-Sorry, sir.” Savage quickly turned and shoved the iron into the brazier. Dagur watched the flames dance and flicker around the shape of his crest, the Skrill. A shiver born from excitement raced up his spine and he chuckled a little, pulled Hiccup closer. This was going to make him his - more than just his in his mind - _legally_ his. No one could argue with that, not even Hiccup. He knew the rules and, unlike Dagur, he tended to follow them. Well, Dagur often forgot what rules were and couldn’t quite understand them. This one was vitally important though, this one that said if he burned his crest into another human being that that person would be his property, his possession, as long as either of them lived.

“Oh, Hiccup, it’s almost time,” he said quietly to the man in his arms. He almost squealed it. He wanted to dance around and laugh, throw the biggest party that anyone had ever seen, drink and eat till he couldn’t anymore. Hiccup would be _his_ and everyone would know it now. His forever and ever and ever, just like it was meant to be. He didn’t know how he was containing himself.

“Ughn…” Hiccup responded, beginning to wake up. That was okay. That was _better_ really. Dagur couldn’t throw a party yet because of how damaged Hiccup was, but perhaps they could celebrate his branding privately with a drink. Just the two of them. And then he could take him again, but gently, carefully, making sure that he enjoyed every moment of it. There was no reason to hurt him at the moment, as his punishment was over and one of the camp doctors had stitched him up from it. Or maybe it should wait until he recovered more.

 _I’m getting ahead of myself. He’s being branded. Yes, yes. With my crest._ Mine. _Hiccup._

“You sure this won’t kill him?” Savage inquired. To be honest, Dagur had forgotten that he was there, though he was the one heating the iron that would be placed on Hiccup’s precious skin.

“What?” Hiccup’s voice was quiet, but he sounded a little more awake now.

“No, it won’t kill him,” Dagur said rather forcefully, stroking a hand through Hiccup’s tangled, but still soft hair. When would Savage stop questioning Hiccup’s strength?

“Boy must be blessed by Thor or something.”

“N-No,” Hiccup protested weakly. He moved a little in Dagur’s arms, but stopped, gasping, having obviously hurt himself. “Please… Please don’t d-do this.”

“It’s alright, Hiccup,” Dagur said softly, trying to calm him. “I’m right here. It won’t take too long.” He gave a nod to Savage, who came over with that beautiful iron, now glowing a fierce, hot orange.

A thrill spread Dagur’s lips in a huge smile and he nearly shrieked. It was time. It was actually happening.

He started to turn Hiccup so that his chest would be exposed, but the fingers of one hand suddenly locked into his right shoulder in a death grip. Dagur’s eyes opened wider in shock. He was clinging to him, trying to use him as protection.

_Maybe that actually did it. Maybe he’s finally broken._

“Come on, Hiccup,” Dagur cooed in his ear, trying to get him to release his shoulder. “I’m holding you. I’m right here. It’ll be fine.”

Hiccup was shaking against him, which made it easier to remove his hand. Once he let go of him, he wasn’t all that hard to turn around. Dagur locked an arm under his chin and pulled his head back so that it wouldn’t get in the way, the other carefully wrapped around his stomach. Hiccup didn’t have the strength to struggle, but the word ‘no’ kept leaving his mouth in a pleading mantra. The most he could do was tense his broken body.

Dagur looked to Savage with a grin. 

“Do it.”

There was a hiss as the branding iron connected with the flesh of Hiccup’s chest. He bellowed, dug his fingers into the arm Dagur had around his stomach. Savage pressed the branding iron down harder, to leave a better mark, and it seemed Hiccup was holding onto Dagur for dear life, like he was the thing helping him get through the pain. He relished it, even as his screams hurt his ears.

It was over in a matter of seconds, and Hiccup sagged against him, face wet with tears. The hold on his arm loosened, but he didn’t entirely let go. Dagur moved his other arm to clasp it around Hiccup’s stomach as well, taking one of his hands. It was an amazing thing, Hiccup holding onto him like that.

Savage left without a word, and Dagur was glad he hadn't had to tell him to go. This moment was for him and Hiccup.

Hiccup didn't say anything for a long time, resting against his chest. His heavy breathing took some time to calm. 

“Can you let go of me now?” His voice was weak, shocked.

“But I want to look at it,” Dagur answered. He was already in the process of carefully moving Hiccup so that he lay across his lap with his back supported by his arm. The younger man whined at this, but didn't move other than letting go of him. His head was hung back and his eyes closed.

It was… It was magnificent. Beautiful. Glorious. _His_ crest in Hiccup’s flesh, flesh that was forever his. The shape contrasted brilliantly with the rest of him, a bright, harsh red. It wasn't just a color: it was a burn in his skin, his muscle. He looked back to Hiccup’s face, then at the brand again. Then once again at his face. Then the brand. It felt like he was dreaming, like his mind couldn't put two and two together. It was too amazing to be true, yet here it was.

Dagur lowered his head towards it. He needed to feel it, to taste it, to know that this was real. He placed a reverent kiss on the branded head of the Skrill and Hiccup winced. _His_ Hiccup. Of course it was real. He was reacting to the pain of him touching it.

He opened his mouth and pulled in the scent and taste of the brand, of Hiccup’s burned flesh. It was sickening in such a wonderful way. He tested it with his tongue next, and Hiccup gave a hoarse cry, chest heaving.

_Yes. This is real. This is all real._

A strange calm had replaced the giddy excitement that Dagur had felt before. He was instead finding himself venerational. He had to worship Hiccup, had to give his entire self to him as a gift. And he was grateful to fate for letting this happen, for letting him finally have Hiccup and marking him as his.

He found himself placing slow, meaningful kisses over Hiccup’s face, breathing his name in adoration. He held him carefully, making sure not to hurt him. The Dragon Rider started to say something but Dagur quieted him with his lips over his. There didn't need to be talking. He just wanted to hear Hiccup’s rough breathing and the lovely sounds he would draw out of him.

His hands were actually touching him, placed on his chest. Dagur felt his chest and throat constrict for a brief second out of excitement and disbelief. He drove his tongue into Hiccup’s mouth, heaved a groan. Yes, this was perfect. Perfect, but not enough. He needed to breathe in his very essence, find the thing inside that made Hiccup _Hiccup._ _His_ Hiccup. He needed to lavish this beautiful creature with pleasure to show his gratitude, his devotion. His own pleasure didn't matter: Hiccup was all that mattered.

He laid him down on the fur rug as gently as he could, then got on all fours over him, as if bowing to him. He wouldn't rest his own weight against him for fear of causing him harm. That was the last thing he wanted to do.

Dagur pulled his mouth away to admire the brand again. A strange, new lust he’d never felt before was waking in his body as he looked at it. It was as if Hiccup was glowing, the fresh mark on his chest turning his lithe form ethereal. Of course none of that was possible, but the _feeling_ ; tears welled up in his eyes.

Dagur removed the blanket from his lower half, then reverently lowered his head again, touching his nose to Hiccup’s neck. He breathed deeply, inhaling the scents of skin and sweat and just a hint of blood, and another smell that he couldn't quite describe, that was distinctly Hiccup’s and nobody else's. He breathed out against his skin, nearly moaned at the rapture of this experience. He pressed his mouth to his warm, living flesh, felt him breathing, almost hoped that he could taste the air that moved through his lungs.

“Dagur, what are you even doing?” Hiccup mainly sounded confused.

He couldn't find the words to explain, didn't know how to tell him what he was feeling. It was impossible. 

“ _Oh_ , Hiccup, Hiccup, Hiccup…” That was all he could manage, breathing his name in an honorary way against his flesh like it was a magic word. But it was a magic word when he came to think of it. It was magic because it belonged to this man beneath him, this man whom he had to show his devotion to. 

Dagur dragged his open mouth down over his chest, drinking deeply of his scent. It was intoxicating, more so than any wine or mead he’d ever had. If scent could be bottled, he would never be seen again, locking himself away and living purely on this. But why would it need to be bottled when he had the source right here?

His tongue followed the example his mouth was making, and the taste of Hiccup made the tears brim over, a few drops pattering onto his freckled skin. 

Those well-worked, nicely sized hands of his placed themselves on Dagur’s chest, and he nearly sobbed. He was being granted with touch. They pressed hard against him, stoking that new, internal fire.

“Stop it.”

No, he wouldn't. Hiccup didn't understand what he was doing. He didn't understand that he deserved worship, that the startlingly beautiful brand on his chest made him like a god. He was grateful for that brand, for his very existence. He was grateful for all the workings of the universe that put them in this moment together, that made it that they were both alive at this exact time to share this.

Those hands slid away as Dagur shifted down his body, and the next few tears he shed were in grief for that loss of contact. However, he found solace in the knowledge that he would soon be honored with his sounds of satisfaction and pleasure.

His mouth found the flesh of his left thigh, kissed it, sucked it gently. Hiccup took in an airy gasp that made Dagur long to hear more. He did everything he possibly could to pleasure him with his mouth in this area, and his actions were praised with a deep, low moan that spoke of a primal urge. He made a similar sound in response, mouth never leaving his skin. That noise increased the deep burning inside of him, the lust that could only be sated by Hiccup’s satisfaction.

Dagur ventured past his knee towards the stump of his leg. Every part of Hiccup had to be honored and gratified, especially this special, sensitive piece of him. He wondered if he was ashamed by it, if he thought it ugly. Dagur certainly didn't, and he wanted to show Hiccup that it was as beautiful as the rest of him, because it _was_ him.

“No, not there. Stop it. Please.”

So he was ashamed of it. Dagur took this as a sign to explore his scarring with his tongue, demonstrating what he felt for this part of him and all of him entirely. There was nothing wrong with it, because it was _him_. It was Hiccup.

Hiccup’s chained foot went to rest on Dagur's shoulder, but he gently moved it out of the way with one hand, planning to move back up and give his right leg the same adoration as he had the left. He steered clear of the stitched-up wound that ran across the top of his thigh, putting more attention towards the inside of his leg. Hiccup made a sound at his liking of this, and Dagur actually shuddered from the sexual tone in it.

He lifted himself to look at Hiccup again, to admire the crest in his skin. His eyes were closed and his breathing was labored, needy. His manhood was handsome and erect against his freckled stomach, and Dagur took a moment to marvel at it, to really appreciate it, this instrument of Hiccup’s pleasure. There was no better form of worship than to honor this intimate part of him.

Hiccup made a little “oh” sound as Dagur dipped his head down and drew his tongue over the length of it. Dagur did it again with a sigh, relishing the taste of him.

“Dagur sto- _aw..._ ” Hiccup didn't get to finish what he was saying, as Dagur had encircled the head with his mouth and sucked gingerly, tongue working away. Hiccup suddenly grabbed and tugged at his hair, and he took this as a sign of his satisfaction.

Dagur flattened himself to the ground, placed his hands on either side of Hiccup, prostrating himself before him. Hiccup pulled harder on his unruly hair, creating a sweet stinging in his scalp.

Dagur eagerly took the entirety of his length into his mouth, was rewarded with a needy grunt. It was amazing the way it filled his mouth and throat, trying to choke him, and he would gladly choke on this wonderful organ of Hiccup’s if he wanted him to.

Hiccup moaned softly as he pulled his mouth slowly up, and then back down. Dagur wanted more of those sounds, more of _him_. He pressed his nose to his pelvis and that blissfully soft patch of hair, sucked as best as he could with his mouth completely full. Hiccup released a cry, hips arching slightly. His hands fell away from his hair, to grasp at the fur beneath him.

All of Dagur's attention was on his self-appointed task. This would be the final part of the ritual, and he had to show Hiccup how he adored him, how he was grateful for his existence. Every noise Hiccup made was like a gift, praising him for his efforts, urging him to continue. He tried to speak every now and then, but the words never made it far before interrupted by an exclamation of pleasure.

It was like magic how he moved underneath him, how he reacted to every touch. Dagur had never experienced anything quite like it before.

Hiccup was reaching his end. His breathing was harsh and the moans and cries were coming more frequently. Dagur shuddered a little in anticipation. What a reward it would be to drink up Hiccup’s very essence, this substance that had the power to make life. The thought brought more tears to his eyes, a few escaping and trailing down his scarred face.

Hiccup cried out his pleasure and his hips came up, shoving himself into Dagur's mouth until his nose was once again against his pelvis. He was thankful for it, especially when a sticky, earthy liquid began to release into his throat. Dagur choked a little, sucked hard, trying to draw every last drop out of him. His ears were blessed with ragged, sensual moans.

He revered in the few seconds of pure ecstasy and release that Hiccup was given. It was a sacred thing being so short. It ended with a yelp and one more thrust upwards. Dagur grunted and gratefully swallowed down the reward he had been given, his body deciding to copy Hiccup’s. He drew himself up on his arms with a gasp and curved his hips into the ground, trying to get the most out of his own climax.

“ _Ah_.” Dagur usually swore when he came, but such a thing would ruin this moment. It was amazing. Hiccup hadn't even touched him, yet he was still the cause of his completion.

He breathed a long sigh once it was over, not caring about the fact that he would have to change his pants now. Such a small annoyance was worth it for what he had been given.

Dagur didn’t move from his position save for lowering his head to look at Hiccup. The other man was peering at him oddly, eyes slitted.

“Did you just…?” He didn’t finish, brow furrowing. The question broke the sanctity of the moment.

“Hel yeah, I did,” Dagur responded. He was beginning to slough off the haze that had come over him. He’d never been in such a state before. It had been… He didn’t really have a word to describe it. Part of him was suspicious, wondering if Savage had snuck something into the drink he’d had earlier as a practical joke, and the other part knew that that wasn’t the case, that the strange worshipfulness that had come over him was because of the fresh brand in Hiccup’s chest.

The Dragon Rider scrunched up his face a little at this, turned his head away. Dagur frowned, feeling offended by the action. He crawled out from between his legs and rested himself next to him on his side, well aware of the wetness in his pants.

“What, I don’t get a thank you?” Dagur prodded in a sour tone. 

“You get a no, thank you, as in, don’t ever do that again.” Hiccup didn’t look at him as he said this, and he sounded tired. It wasn’t much of a demand.

“I’ll do whatever I want with you, you ungrateful little shit.” He was angry, but he couldn’t bring himself to yell for some reason. He played the fingers of his left hand against Hiccup’s chest before pressing his palm to the brand, feeling the slightly raised, still-hot skin.

Hiccup gave a pained cry and his chest heaved against his palm. He grabbed weakly at his wrist, trying to break the contact. It didn't do much; he looked on the verge of passing out from a combination of pain, pleasure, and exhaustion. 

“Stop it!” He gasped out. “Y-You're hurting me!”

“That I am,” Dagur affirmed, drawing his fingers over the brand, trying to feel every curve and ridge of it. Hiccup didn't let go of him, though his hands were shaking. The contact made Dagur think about what he really wanted those hands to touch and he would have been aroused if not for just finishing.

_Maybe later._

Hiccup whimpered and shifted a little, but wasn't strong enough to do anything else. His eyes were shut, but Dagur could see tears brimming over. His lips pulled into a maniacal grin at this. 

“Sto-” Hiccup gasped out but couldn't finish. The grip, (if it could even be called that,) on Dagur's wrist disappeared, and soon after his muscles loosened and relaxed. He was unconscious.

Dagur withdrew his hand, sneering a little. Why couldn't Hiccup stay awake longer?! And why couldn't he be more careful with him?! 

_I probably have to let him rest for a few days._ The thought was an unpleasant one. He was angry with Hiccup and himself. He’d lost what little control he had and almost damaged him beyond repair. But that had happened because Hiccup made him. The insolent brat had to stop fighting! 

_Well, guess my wish of us fucking at least three times a day will have to wait._ With that thought, Dagur made himself get up off the ground to get a change of pants. And to grab his axe. The thought of a party seemed ridiculous now. He’d just have to go killing instead.


	22. Chapter 21

Dagur stumbled into the dark tent, uncaringly dropping his bloodstained axe on the ground. He could feel blood, still warm, soaking through his clothes. He knew that there must be some on his face too, but that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered save for the still form wrapped in blankets on his cot.

A lazy smile spread his lips and he made his way over, tripping and nearly falling. 

“Hiccup, s’me,” he slurred out. He was expecting him to make some movement, turn his head to face him, maybe even give him a greeting, but he didn’t move.

Dagur leaned over and poked him in the back. “Wa-wake up.”

No response.

He clumsily pulled back the blankets and laid himself down beside him. He shoved him again, harder this time.

“C’mon, iss yer brother.” He frowned when he remained silent. “Hiccup, m’sorry.” He wrapped both his arms around him and pulled him close, nuzzling his head into the back of his neck. He was comforted by the feeling of him breathing, by the warmth of his body against him. “M’sorry. Did’n mean it.”

Dagur was angry with himself for what had happened earlier. In the moment he had been furious, had been happy with how he was hurting Hiccup, but now he regretted it. He’d nearly killed him, and that was definitely not something he wanted to do. So, he’d gotten drunk and found some entertainment for himself in order to get some release for the emotions. He didn’t have to worry about the mess he made. Savage would take care of the bodies.

It felt good to be hugging Hiccup, but he wished he was awake. He wanted him to at least hear his apology.

“Sorry,” he said again. “Jus’ got angry. You getit, righ? Did’n actually wanna hurt ya so bad. M-made a mishtake.” 

Dagur hugged him tighter, breathed out a sigh that was a mix of frustration and contentment. He was frustrated by Hiccup, and by his own actions, but he was content to have him here in his arms.

His mind wandered to the fact that Hiccup was naked save for the bandages wrapped around his torso and right thigh. One hand came up to stroke over the brand in the left side of his chest. He smiled, hummed a little in appreciation of it. Hiccup was his, and he could do whatever he wanted with him.

He ground his hips against his backside, cock hardening and straining against his pants. His movements were slow for the time being, but he kept at it, loving the friction.

Dagur groaned and pressed his face into Hiccup’s shoulder. He let go of him with his left hand to free his aching cock from his pants, right still stroking over that beautiful brand. He didn’t care that Hiccup was asleep. He just wanted him so badly.

He used his hand to position himself, trying to find his hole. It occurred to him that maybe lube would be a good idea, so as not to injure the both of them, but he was too far gone into his own lust to stop for that. 

He jabbed at him with his cock, but couldn’t find what he was looking for. He whined in frustration, then settled for rutting himself against his ass. He went back to holding onto him with both arms as he rocked against him. That was a good feeling, his ass plush and warm against his cock.

Dagur moaned, found himself biting at his shoulder. He couldn’t get over how fantastic everything about Hiccup was. His body was amazing, and he smelled good and tasted good. 

He grunted as he picked up his pace, grinding against him hard.

“So good, Hiccup, so good,” he whispered to him, though he was still unconscious and couldn’t hear him.

Dagur was loud as he pleasured himself with his Dragon Rider, grunting and whining and moaning. He wasn’t usually loud like this unless he was drunk, and he was definitely drunk given that he’d had four mugs of mead. Or had it been more than that? It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except for how good he felt rutting up against Hiccup like this.

His name came tumbling out of his mouth in a slurred chant as he neared his climax. He thrusted against him frantically. It wasn’t long till he was rewarded with a blast of pleasure that had him breathlessly yelling out curses. 

He just lay there gasping when he finished, holding Hiccup against him. He hadn’t stirred or made a single sound through the entire thing, and he didn’t show signs of waking anytime soon.

Tired and happy, Dagur nuzzled his nose into the warmth of Hiccup’s neck and closed his eyes. Breathing a sigh, he let himself slide into unconsciousness.

 

 

Hiccup was awakened by the sound of his own screaming. He thrashed and flailed, but stilled himself when it caused pain to tear through his body. Terror flooded him with cold and had him shaking. He couldn’t shake off the dreams he’d been plagued with: dreams of rape and torture and death. He couldn’t seem to stop screaming either.

“Hiccup, hey! Calm down!” There was movement, someone laying down next to him, then arms wrapping around him.

Panicked, he struck out, fists hitting armor. “No! Don’t touch me! Don’t! _No!_ ” He didn’t bother to try to hold back his tears.

“Hey, you’re awake now.” Dagur’s voice had taken on a gentle tone, and he was pulled closer. He no longer had the room to hit him, so he just rested his fists against his breastplate. “It was just a dream. It’s okay.”

“No, no!” Hiccup sobbed. He tried pulling away, but he didn’t have the strength to. There was an awful burning in the left side of his chest. “Let go of me! Let go!” 

One of Dagur’s hands curled around the back of his head, pressing his face up against his neck. “Hiccup, sh. Calm down.”

Doing that seemed impossible. The very man he’d just had a nightmare about was trying to comfort him, and he was being overwhelmed by his touch and his scent. He decided not to bother with any more protests though – he just cried against his chest.

 _What has my life come to?_

Answering his own question weighed him down with despair. His life had come to him literally being _owned_ by Dagur the Deranged. The proof of that was a very real agony in the left side of his chest. His brand. He’d been _branded_. _Dagur had branded him._

Hiccup was his property now. He actually belonged to him, and could no longer argue it when he said so. Not only that, but it had burned any of his status from him. He was no longer Berk’s heir, and never again could be. He didn’t have the right to lead anyone. Hel, now he didn’t have any rights at all unless Dagur gave them to him. He was completely at the mercy of a man who had none to give.

Dagur was running his other hand up and down his back as if it would help him. Hiccup tried not to shiver.

He stopped crying after a time, and he and Dagur just lay there, neither of them speaking a word. He felt a little better, but not by much. Now that he’d calmed, he could take stock of his physical state.

Hiccup was in pain. A lot of it. His slashes stung like nothing he’d ever felt before, and he realized they’d been stitched up. They were all bandaged too, the huge one in his side requiring bandages around almost his entire torso. His ribs ached, but they definitely weren’t hurting as badly as the last time he’d been awake, and it almost felt as if the branding iron was still being pressed against his chest. There was a slight burning sensation in his ass and lower abdomen, a result of Dagur’s rape. He was surprised it wasn’t worse though. How long had he been out?

“How long was I asleep?” he asked, voice coming out as a croak. His throat and mouth were dry; he was in need of water. Food certainly wouldn’t hurt either, as he was a little hungry.

“Two days,” Dagur answered. “You had me worried there.”

“Oh wow, you care,” Hiccup said drily.

Dagur snorted. “Of course I care. I’m not planning on killing you.”

“Really?” Hiccup was once again trying to free himself from his arms, pulling himself back. “Kind of hard to tell.”

Dagur loosened his hold on him and let go of his head. Hiccup was grateful for that, as his nose was no longer right up against his neck. He opened his eyes, but looked anywhere but at Dagur’s face. There was some light coming in through the tent flaps. It felt like it was some time in the afternoon.

“Well, if you need proof, I was actually just about to take care of you,” he told him. “The doctor that stitched you up gave me some instructions.”

“Why can’t he do it?” Hiccup wasn’t happy with the idea of Dagur tending to his wounds.

“Because I don’t want anyone else touching you.”

“Oh, how kind of you,” Hiccup responded sarcastically. “Can I maybe eat first?”

“No, you get to eat afterwards.” Dagur let go of him and sat up. “So you can have something to look forward to.”

“Oh sweet, are you gonna poison it? Because I’d definitely look forward to that.” Hiccup felt that it was okay to have his usual snark. He could tell that Dagur wasn’t in the mood to hurt him, even if he did get angry.

“Ya know, I can’t say I was expecting you to be this sassy after being unconscious for two days,” Dagur admitted.

Hiccup shrugged his right shoulder. “Eh, it’s how I am.”

“Well then, Hiccup the Sass Master, let’s get you sitting up so I can get your bandages off.”

He let Dagur help him sit, releasing a small groan at the pain it caused. The blankets were then pulled off of him and he shivered from both the chill and discomfort. He definitely didn’t like being naked all the time.

“Lift your arms,” Dagur ordered.

Once he did so, Dagur began unraveling the bandages around his torso. They were sticky with dried blood.

“Dagur, could I, um, maybe have some clothes?” Hiccup asked timidly, growing more uncomfortable with each inch of skin that was revealed. He was afraid that he would deny him even that.

“Why?”

Hiccup felt an anger welling up inside him, but he pushed it down. Of _course_ Dagur would ask him _why_ he wanted clothes, even though it was a basic human right to have them.

“Because I’m cold,” he responded. He wasn’t even going to bring up the fact of his nudity. Dagur obviously didn’t give a damn about his comfort when it came to that.

“Fine, I guess, even though I’ll just be pulling them off of you.”

“Thank you.” He didn’t know why he was thanking him for something he should have had in the first place.

Dagur pulled off the last of the bandages from his torso, rolled them into a ball, and tossed them aside. Out of curiosity, Hiccup bent his head down to examine his wound, but Dagur suddenly grabbed him by the chin.

“Hey, don’t look at it! You’re just gonna freak yourself out.”

He was probably right about that. Hiccup had been a hurt numerous times in his life, but he’d never been cut up like this before. So he just glued his eyes ahead, over Dagur’s shoulder. He didn’t want to look at the man’s face.

“Okay, good. Now keep your right arm raised for me.”

Hiccup was compliant as Dagur removed the rest of his bandages, then carefully applied a salve. It stung, but he gritted his teeth and didn’t make a sound. 

“Hey, I’m sorry about doing this to you, you know,” Dagur said once he’d started wrapping new bandages around his wounds.

Hiccup actually looked to his face, stunned by his apology, but he was looking at what he was doing. He didn’t think he’d ever heard the words “I’m sorry” come out of his mouth before. He was actually capable of feeling remorse? 

“Seriously?” he questioned.

“Yeah,” Dagur said. “Though it’s kind of your fault too.”

“My fault?! How is this my fault?!” Hiccup asked incredulously. And now he was back to making no sense at all.

“Well, if you weren’t such a stubborn, defiant little shit all the time, I wouldn’t have hurt you,” Dagur said matter-of-factly. 

“You’re crazy,” Hiccup blurted out. He couldn’t believe Dagur was actually blaming _him_ for the state he was in. He’d been the one to do it!

“Deranged,” Dagur corrected him.

“Fine, you’re deranged,” Hiccup said. He was growing angry again. “But _none_ of this is my fault. You’re the one who captured me! You’re the one who hurt me like this! I had nothing to do with it!”

He was suddenly shoved down onto his back by hands pressed into his shoulders, Dagur sneering right in his face, nose nearly touching his.

“Your actions have consequences, Hiccup!” the chief snapped. “And you better quit all this, because you belong to me now! I have complete and utter control over you! Understand?”

Hiccup didn’t know what to say, especially since Dagur was right. He _did_ have complete control over him. He couldn’t have anything unless Dagur gave it to him, and whatever Dagur wanted from him, he could take. 

He was crushed by a sudden hopelessness. Before, he had thought that maybe he could get out, or that maybe he could fight him, but he couldn’t. What was the point of trying to escape anyway? He wouldn’t be welcomed home with this brand on his chest.

“Do. You. Understand?” Dagur growled at him after some time in silence.

He just nodded, couldn’t find it in him to speak.

“And if I want something from you,” he continued, eyes narrowed, “I take it. Or better yet, you even give it to me. Got it?”

Some of Hiccup’s will built back up at that. He was _not_ going to give Dagur anything or do as he said. And maybe there was a point in fighting. He couldn’t just lay down and make it easy for him.

“No.” It was quiet, but determined. 

“Excuse me?” Dagur asked, daring him to repeat it, giving him a chance to back down. Hiccup refused to do that.

“I said no.” His words were louder this time. He narrowed his eyes in a glare. His voice was steady when next he spoke, something he hadn’t exactly expected. “I’m not going to do anything you say.”

The Berserker’s hold on his shoulders tightened and his glare deepened. “It would make things much easier for yourself.”

“And for you,” Hiccup responded. “I’d rather it be hard for both of us than make it easy for you.”

Dagur threw back his head and laughed loudly. Hiccup managed to shrink back a little, unnerved by the unexpected reaction. Then before he could see it coming, his laughter stopped and his lips were pressed to his. He wanted to squirm and struggle, but he was hurting too much to fight back.

“Oh, I do get so turned on when you're defiant like that.” Dagur's voice had lowered, taken on a lustful tone.

 _Oh no._

Hiccup shoved at his armored chest with both hands, turned his head when Dagur lowered his mouth towards his again. The man didn't actually seem to mind, settling for running his parted lips over his jaw. Hiccup couldn't repress a terrified whimper.

He jerked as Dagur was suddenly running his fingers over the brand. 

“Ow! Don't touch that!”

“I can touch whatever part of you I want,” Dagur said against his skin. His right hand trailed downwards and away from the brand, giving Hiccup a fleeting moment of relief, before he grasped at his cock. 

He wanted to fight so badly, but he was too weak, and Dagur had him trapped, straddling him and holding onto him with his knees. Then his left hand was in his hair, pulling his head back so that he could kiss and suck at his throat.

Defeated, Hiccup let his arms fall to his sides. He would just have to let Dagur do what he wanted for now.

He groaned as his length hardened in the chief’s stroking hand. His body was quickly becoming aroused at the touching, something he really wished wouldn't happen. He mentally cursed its betrayal, and he cursed Dagur for taking advantage of something he couldn't help.

“Oh _yeah_.” Dagur straightened, eyes going down towards Hiccup’s erection. “Look how beautiful your cock is.” He stroked it faster, bringing moans from Hiccup’s mouth. He closed his eyes and attempted to turn off his mind. His body could get him through this if he gave it complete control.

It was a difficult task and he wrestled with himself while also trying to focus on the sensations. They were good ones, and his body liked that. If he could stop thinking about who was doing this to him and just focus on what he felt, he could endure this.

His hips went up into that hand, and he released a cry as a mouth was suddenly on his left nipple. The sensation somehow traveled down to his cock, and he arched into the mouth as it began sucking. Fingers pinched at his other nipple and he moaned loudly.

He gasped as teeth bit and tugged, tossed his head back. Yes, this was all good. It was. If he just kept telling himself that - 

Thought crashed back into him and he gave a cry that was a mix of pleasure and despair. Dagur. It was Dagur doing this to him.

“St-stop,” he gasped out.

“But you sound like you like it.”

“No, I-I don't.” There were tears stinging at his eyes.

“Mm hm. Don't believe you.”

Then Dagur was moving down his body. Hiccup squirmed a little but was rewarded with pain from his injuries. 

“ _Ah!_ ” Dagur had taken the head of his cock into his mouth and started sucking. He almost wished for him to use his teeth. He wouldn't be feeling so much emotional turmoil if this hurt.

He bobbed his head up and down a few times before pulling off of him and climbing back up his body. Hiccup was free from his touch as he heard him undoing his belt. He whimpered.

“Wish I could fuck you in the ass, but I’d just end up making you bleed again.”

Hiccup felt some relief at his words. Having Dagur fuck him like that was the worst thing he'd ever experienced, and he’d rather not face it at the moment, though he knew at some point it would happen again. 

Though, he did cringe and twist his features in disgust when Dagur had his cock pressed to his and his hand wrapped around the both of them. He began to jerk them both, rocking his hips at the same time.

“Mm, _shit_ , that's good,” Dagur gasped out. “You like that, baby? Is it good for you?”

“Ugh, don't call me that.”

“I’ll call you what I want, _baby_.”

Hiccup wished he could block his ears without looking totally ridiculous. As if this whole thing wasn't bad enough, Dagur had to talk through it too. He gripped the blankets underneath him and twisted his head, biting his lip to hold in a moan.

Hiccup couldn't keep up being silent forever though, and he released his voice when the pleasure began to climb to its apex.

“Oh yeah, you're gonna cum soon, aren't you?” Dagur asked him huskily. Hiccup refused to answer, which resulted in Dagur rutting against him harder. He gave a cry at this, shifted underneath him.

“Cum for, daddy, Hiccup,” he said breathlessly. “Come on, baby. Come on.”

Hiccup shouted as his orgasm overtook him. Burning pleasure raced through him, intensifying with each second that passed. Dagur kept moving against him, and then he was cumming too. 

“ _Hiccup!_ Oh fuck!”

Everything only lasted a few seconds, and then all movement stopped. Hiccup promptly fainted.


	23. Chapter 22

“Snotlout, look out!”

At Tuffnut’s call, the Dragon Rider quickly glanced behind him, then pulled Hookfang to the right to avoid a flaming boulder just in the nick of time. 

“Okay, definitely felt the heat on that one!” He pulled Hookfang around to blast at the Hunter ship that had just shot at them. He and the twins had run into three of them while out scouting and were now in the midst of battle. It was getting difficult to see as night fell. They’d been planning on finding someplace to rest and then continue scouting the next day, but it looked like they’d have to go back to Dragon’s Edge after this battle. Hopefully they wouldn’t have to all-out retreat. It was long odds facing three of the massive, deadly ships with only two dragons. 

Dragon Root arrows sparked against the Gronckle Iron armor covering Hookfang’s belly and the dragon let out a sound of distress. Snotlout was grateful that his dragon had armor to protect against the incapacitating arrows, but the twins and their dragon weren’t so lucky. They were spending more time dodging than actually fighting.

“Hey, guys! I have an idea!” Snotlout called to them.

“If it involves you getting hit with a boulder, let’s hear it!” Ruffnut shouted back, ducking so that an arrow went whizzing over her head.

“No!” He pointed towards one of the ships. “I’m going in for that ship! Cover me and then follow when I pull back!”

“Wait, we’re retreating?” Tuffnut questioned.

“Just do what I said!” Snotlout shrieked at them, losing his patience. 

Maneuvering around another flaming boulder, he dove towards the ship, hanging tight to Hookfang’s horns. There were explosions and screams as the twins attacked from behind.

“Hookfang, grab!” Snotlout ordered, pointing at one of the Hunters. He knew it was risky getting in so close, but hopefully this would pay off.

The man ran for it when Hookfang got close, but he was no match for the speed of a Monstrous Nightmare. Soon, the dragon had his talons hooked around the Hunter’s arms and he lifted him into the air.

Snotlout took off away from the ship before he and Hookfang could be shot. Arrows whizzed past them and _dinged_ harmlessly against the armor, though a few came close to piercing Hookfang’s unprotected legs and tail.

He thankfully didn’t have to shout for the twins to follow. They flew quickly, and were soon out of range of the ships.

“Hey!” yelled the Hunter clasped in Hookfang’s talons. “Put me down!”

Ruffnut and Tuffnut swooped down to fly below Snotlout, coming in close to the Hunter.

“And into the ocean?” Ruffnut asked. “That’s not a very smart request. Hey, Snotlout, why’d you nab this guy anyway?”

“We don’t know if Dagur is still working with the Hunters and I thought maybe he’d be able to tell us something,” Snotlout answered.

“I’m not saying anything!” the Hunter yelled up at him, sounding angry.

“Tell that to Stoick the Vast!” Snotlout responded. He was feeling rather proud of himself for his quick thinking. Yes, they’d had to retreat, but now they had someone to question. They might be able to get information.

“It’s kind of a long flight to the Edge,” Tuffnut noted. He moved Belch in close to the Hunter, who seemed unnerved by the proximity. He poked at his arms. “You think his arms will stay on that long?”

“Well, if his arms fall off, you guys can catch him.”

“Got it!” Tuffnut called up to him.

“For the record, I hope your arms do fall off,” Ruffnut told the Hunter. Then the twins were flying beside Snotlout.  
Snotlout patted Hookfang on the neck. “Put on all the speed you can. The sooner we get back with this human piece of garbage, the better.”

 

 

Stoick hadn’t been happy to be awakened in the middle of the night, but now he had someone to take out his anger on. He was impressed with Snotlout for thinking to capture a Dragon Hunter.

The Hunter was now tied up and sitting in one of the chairs in Hiccup’s hut. Stoick had taken to sleeping there, (in a new bed made for himself of course), on the nights he didn’t spend with Toothless. The man looked awfully tired. That could work to Stoick’s advantage. He could let something slip entirely without meaning to.

“Is Dagur the Deranged still working with Viggo Grimborn?” he asked, trying to keep from shouting. He made it clear that he was angry though, eyebrows drawn down, hands balled into fists at his sides.

The man just looked back at him stubbornly, tightening his lips. Stoick wasn’t taking any of that. He struck him across the face. There was no point in going easy on this man and using intimidation tactics before physical violence.

“Is he or is he not still working with Viggo Grimborn?!” 

The Hunter straightened, spat blood out of his mouth. “I don’t know,” he responded weakly.

“Don’t give me that yak shit!” Stoick fisted his left hand into the front of his tunic and yanked him up, ready to hit him again.

“No, honestly!” the Hunter cried. “I don’t know! I swear! None of us do!”

Stoick dropped him back into the chair. The man was terrified: trembling, eyes wide, face pale – he was telling the truth.

“Then what _do_ you know?”

“Dagur met with Viggo a few days ago, and when he left, Viggo followed him,” he answered quickly. He obviously didn’t want to be punched again.

“Where to?”

“I-I don’t know. There’s word going around that Dagur deserted.”

Stoick ground his teeth together. None of this was helpful to him.

“Well where’s Viggo now?” If he’d followed Dagur, he, or one of the Hunters with him, would know where he was, and if they found the Berserker, they found Hiccup.

“Sir, I’m just a soldier. I’m not privy to all that information.”

“So you don’t know,” Stoick stated in frustration. He rubbed a hand over his face. This was getting him nowhere.

“No.”

“Do you have _anything_ useful to tell me?!”

“Um…” The man licked his lips. “Wh-what would you count as useful?”

“Have you spotted any Berserker ships?”

“A-a few.”

“Where?” Stoick grabbed him by the tunic with both hands, getting right in his face.

“Th-the Iron Isle.”

 _The Iron Isle. That’s near Melody Island._ The smallest bit of hope fluttered in his chest. Instead of releasing the man, he hauled him up to his feet. He left the hut, pulling him behind him.

“Uh, wh-where are you taking me?”

“Since you have nothing else to give me, I’m introducing you to a cliff,” he responded angrily. No point in keeping this man around since he’d expended his usefulness. “This island has a lot of them.”

 

 

Stoick sat beside Toothless. The dragon had been wide awake when he entered the stables, pacing around restlessly. He lay still now, though it was obvious he was becoming agitated without the means to fly. He’d have to ask Gobber to work on something for him.

“We might be close to finding Hiccup,” he told him. The Night Fury’s ears perked up at this, and his big green eyes held a tinge of hope when he lifted his head and looked at him.

“Well, we at least have a place to start looking,” Stoick clarified. He never felt silly talking to this dragon. He knew he could understand what he was saying. He patted him on the neck. “And I’m going to have Gobber make a new tail for you. I can’t imagine how tired you must be of not being able to fly.”

Toothless warbled at him in what sounded like a grateful manner, but then a sad look overtook his features and he laid his head back down.

“I know you want to fly with Hiccup. Don’t worry, we’ll find him.” 

Stoick fell silent, absentmindedly stroking Toothless on the head. Talking about his son was hard, as he had to constantly block out thoughts of what was being done to him. His anger never left, just boiling under his skin, waiting to be released.

His gut twisted. To think that another man was using _his son_ for sex against his will was horrific and disturbing. Of course, the gender didn’t necessarily matter. Gobber was attracted towards men and that didn’t bother him at all, but Hiccup had never shown an interest in males – he only had eyes for Astrid. 

But just the fact that he didn’t _want_ it. Rape was rape no matter how you sliced it, and it wasn’t just a thing that happened to women. 

_I just never imagined it would ever happen to Hiccup._

Tears welled in his eyes and he hurriedly wiped them away. There was no one to see him, but that didn’t matter. A chief didn’t cry. He couldn’t. There wasn’t always time to deal with his own emotions.

“We’ll find him, Toothless. We will. I promise. I can’t leave him in the hands of that madman.”

The dragon made a sound of agreement, and Stoick was suddenly feeling motivated. They had a place to look. When the sun came up, he’d gather the Dragon Riders and the auxiliary team and they’d go to the Iron Isle. Hopefully there would still be Berserker ships there and that one of them would have more to tell him than that Dragon Hunter.


	24. Chapter 23

“So you came here to drag us into a war?!” Thorn cried in obvious outrage, rising from his chair. Heather was glad that the dais put her at a higher level than him, or else she’d end up backing down. However, she was not glad that Astrid wasn’t with her. She was spending time with the royal guard, giving them flights on Stormfly. The two of them were hoping that perhaps dragons could be adopted into the defense system as they had been with Berk and Dragon’s Edge.

“I came here to take my rightful place,” Heather responded sternly. She stayed seated in the throne, fists curling on the armrests. She had known that she’d get this kind of reaction when she told them more about Dagur. “My brother isn’t fit to rule you, and he hasn’t done so in three years.”

“It’s kind of hard to rule from a prison cell,” another councilman said. He was much calmer than Thorn, but he seemed like he was getting riled up.

“He’s been out for a while and has made no attempt at reclaiming the throne,” Heather pointed out. “He’s so arrogant he thinks he still has it. And he hasn’t returned home either.”

“What you’re talking about is civil war!” Thorn shouted. “One that _we_ would be instigating! We should just leave him to whatever it is he’s doing unless he makes a move against us. We’re not going to strike first when he hasn’t made any provocations towards us.”

“We’re not leaving him to what he’s doing!” Heather couldn’t help raising her voice now. Hel, maybe it would help get her point across. “Because what he’s doing while we all sit here is starting a war with Berk!”

“Bah, why should we care?” a different councilmember asked. “As long as he’s not attacking us.”

“Because Berk is my ally,” Heather answered, trying to imbue power and command into her voice. “And as such is an ally of the Berserkers. We cannot just leave them to face Dagur alone.”

“This is insane.” Thorn still hadn’t retaken his seat. “What has Berk ever done for us?”

“We had peace and trade with Berk for years until Dagur became chief,” Heather stated. “And if not for them, I wouldn’t be alive to sit here and listen to you disregard them as nothing.”

Thorn had had his mouth open, looking ready to interrupt her, but he clamped it shut and quietly sat back down.

Heather allowed herself to smile a little at shutting him down, then continued on: “That’s not all. I know Dagur better than any of you, and he will eventually come back here, probably very soon. And then he will bring his war with Berk to you.”

“One war to stop another doesn’t sound entirely logical,” Hilda said carefully. She’d been quiet almost the whole time, just listening to everyone else speak. She had probably been trying to weigh in on the situation.

_Oh man, I didn’t really want to bring this up, but it looks like I have no choice._

“Would all of you like to know _how_ Dagur reignited the war with Berk? It had nothing to do with them.”

The council just looked at her silently, giving her the go ahead to speak.

“He wrongfully captured Berk’s heir, Hiccup Haddock, and there is reason to believe that he has made him a slave.” She certainly wasn’t going to say what kind of slave though. Thinking of that made her feel sick.

There were startled gasps from the council, and then they were all exchanging disturbed looks. After a few moments in tense silence, Hilda spoke up.

“We will all have to think on this.”

Heather rose, sensing that the meeting was at an end. “Well then think quickly. We meet again tomorrow at noon.”

She didn’t rub at the stress headache forming in her temples until she left the throne room, not wanting to appear weak. She was exhausted. She hadn’t known ruling could be so tiring.

 _But all I’ve been doing is sitting in a chair arguing with people._ To her, a trained warrior and Dragon Rider, it didn’t really make sense that such a thing was tiring her out so much.

 _Maybe it’s just my moon’s blood coming_ , she reasoned, heading back to her bedchamber. It was around that time; her lower back was aching and she had cramps. A nap would probably do her some good.

Heather was disappointed to find that Astrid wasn’t there when she got back, though she had said that she’d probably be gone till the evening. Yawning, she removed her armor, then crawled into bed, sprawling herself out under the blankets. She closed her eyes with a small, contented smile. Yes, sleep was definitely what she needed.

 

Her dreams were strange and disturbing. In one she was riding on Windshear, but there was no clear setting. She was completely lost and surrounded by fog, and the farther she flew, the deeper it became.

The one after was much worse. Dagur was there with her, in the castle. They were in her bed, naked, mouths locked together, hands searching each other’s bodies. Then Astrid walked in, started yelling in shock, telling Heather that she was disgusting and that she hated her, that she wondered why she’d ever been her friend. Before Heather could say anything, the dream faded into another.

It was Dagur and herself again, but they weren’t alone. Hiccup was there too, tied up, gagged, and bloodied. The blankets were stained red and so were Dagur’s hands. He left marks of it wherever he touched her. She tried to pull away from him, but it seemed like her body wasn’t her own. He said something about having a family reunion, and Hiccup was looking at her with huge, pain-filled, terrified eyes.

Heather’s eyes flew open and she drew in a gasp. She was sweaty, her hair mussed, fingers clutching at the blankets. Her heart pounded in her chest.

“Hey, you okay?”

She rolled onto her side and turned her head to see Astrid standing in the doorway. She took a step in and closed the door behind her, looking concerned.

Heather looked away from her, didn’t say anything. She felt tense and anxious from the dreams.

“Heather?”

She felt Astrid sit down on the bed. A hand touched her shoulder.

“Are you disgusted by me, Astrid?” she asked after a few more moments in silence.

“What?! No! What are you even talking about?” Astrid seemed shocked by the question. 

“I had a dream,” Heather began to explain, “and you said you were disgusted by me, that you wondered why we were even friends.”

“Wow, dream me sounds like a real bitch.”

“I know it wasn’t actually _you_ -”

“Nope, I’m right here.”

“-but it got me thinking. How are you _not_ disgusted by me?” Shame was digging a hole into her stomach and she angled her head down into the blankets. Her next words were much quieter. “I’m starting to become disgusted by me.”

Neither of them said anything for a while, but then Astrid spoke, hesitant.

“Is it because of your relationship with Dagur?”

“Mm hm.”

Astrid gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Look, Heather, you didn’t know, okay? How could you have?”

“I mean, I should have thought it through.” She didn’t necessarily know how to explain what she was feeling. How she felt in regards to Dagur made no sense to her. She was physically attracted to him, she hated him, she cared for him, she wanted to kill him… It was just a great big, nonsensical jumble.

“But hey, it’s not like there was any harm done,” Astrid said. Heather was finding her tone of voice comforting. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she said dismally with a sigh.

“What were you doing sleeping anyway?” Astrid inquired. “It’s almost dinner.”

“I’ve been pretty tired recently,” she answered. “My moon’s blood is coming I think.”

“Oh, is there anything I can do for you?” Astrid asked in understanding.

Heather glanced over her shoulder, gave her a small, hopeful smile. “Um, would a back rub be too much of a bother?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course it’s not.”

“Thanks, Astrid.” She rolled onto her stomach and the other woman pulled back the blankets.

“Anything for you, chief.” There was a hint of amusement in her voice. She began rubbing her thumbs into her aching lower back.

Heather smiled. “Oh, come on. Don’t call me that. I’m not your chief.”

“Whatever you say, chief.” There was a smile in her words.

Heather chuckled. “So, how’d your day go?”

“Well, none of the royal guards fell off of Stormfly, so that was a success. They’re definitely not as afraid of her as they had been. Hey, maybe soon they’ll be wanting to get their own dragons. What about you? You were going to tell the council about, uh, Dagur, correct?”

“And I did,” Heather replied. “They really weren’t happy about it, especially Thorn, but I was able to stop them arguing. I’m meeting with them again tomorrow to discuss it further.”

“And all you told them was that he restarted the war with Berk?”

“Um…” Heather licked her lips. “I had to tell them a little more to convince them.”

“Like…?” Astrid prompted.

“That he captured Hiccup and that he’s probably his slave now. I didn’t give details though,” she assured her. “Definitely didn’t say what kind of slave either.”

Astrid stopped massaging her for a moment and she felt her shudder. “Good.”

“I’m thinking I’ll have most of them on my side by tomorrow,” Heather went on. “And then we can send Terror Mail to Dragon’s Edge to let them know what’s going on.”

“I hope we’ll be getting a message from them soon,” Astrid said. “All this waiting is driving me crazy.”

“I know.”

“But hey, if you’re feeling okay after dinner, want to go out flying with me?” Astrid asked. “It’d be fun, flying with no purpose or destination.”

Heather swallowed hard, recalling her first dream. She brushed it aside though. It had just been her subconscious giving a representation of what she was feeling. 

“Yeah, sure.”

They were quiet for a minute or so, and it was a comfortable silence. Neither of them had to speak to enjoy each other’s company.

“The royal guards think that we’re a thing,” Astrid informed her.

“Really?” Heather couldn’t say she was very surprised though. They shared a bedchamber and occasionally held hands. Of course others would start to talk about it.

“Yeah. Some of them were asking me about it.”

“And what’d you tell them?”

“Nothing really. Just that we’re close and care a lot about each other. That’s not a lie.”

“Nope, it’s not.”

“ _Are_ we a thing?”

Heather rolled over, interrupting Astrid’s back massage, and sat up, now facing her. They hadn’t actually ever talked about their feelings for each other, even after they’d kissed. They hadn’t tried to do that again though.

“Um, but what about Hiccup?” Heather asked. She tried to meet Astrid’s gaze, but she just looked away and down at her hands.

“I…” Astrid exhaled heavily. “I like you,” she admitted. “I like both of you in the same way, and it’s confusing as Hel, especially since he’s not here and you are.”

“I like you too, Astrid,” Heather told her, taking one of her hands in hers. “But I won’t do anything unless you ask me. I’m fine with just being friends if that’s what you want. Hiccup’s my friend too and I don’t want to hurt him.”

Astrid bit her lower lip, nodded. “I’m just confused.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Heather offered. She didn’t like seeing her in emotional distress.

Astrid lifted her head and looked at her. “Could…” She stopped and cleared her throat, then tried again. “Could you kiss me?”

Heather was a little shocked by the request. “Are you sure?”

“It might help me figure things out,” Astrid answered. She looked tentative, but then said: “I’m sure.”

“Um, okay.” Heather’s cheeks turned a little red. She’d never been asked to kiss someone before. It made her feel awkward for some reason. She focused on Astrid’s lips, leaned her head in.

She brushed her mouth against Astrid’s, gently, carefully, barely even touching. Then she pulled back, studying Astrid to try to discern what she was feeling. She didn’t get very long to look however, as she was suddenly leaning forward and her lips were pressed to hers. It wasn’t a hard kiss, but it was passionate and caring.

They pulled back together, meeting each other’s eyes.

“So, uh, how was that?” Heather finally asked.

“Not bad.” There was a blush creeping into Astrid’s cheeks and she gave a small shrug of one shoulder.

“I thought it was better than not bad.” 

“Yeah, you’re right. It was.”

Heather was going to speak, but Astrid came forward and kissed her again. She suddenly forgot everything that she wanted to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I know there are those of you that don't like the Heather/Astrid in this. I'm sorry, but that's just how the story's going for now. For all you Hiccstrid shippers, don't you worry. They'll end up back together, but that's gonna take some time. Rest assured, I'm not forcing these two together. I'm listening to all of the characters and this just happens to be what they both kind of want. I mean, psychologically speaking it makes sense. People are often drawn to each other when in stressful situations, and oh boy is this one.


	25. Chapter 24

Hiccup gritted his teeth as he eased himself into the hot water. He tried not to react as his wounds became submerged, but couldn’t hold in a cry as water lapped at his brand. Tears stung at his eyes and he blinked them away – no need to add to his humiliation by openly crying.

Finally, he was all the way in the tub, and he released a sigh. He supposed it was nice to be getting a bath, even though every little movement hurt and Dagur had had to help him into the tub. It would at least feel good to be clean.

“Dagur, where’s the soap? I can clean up on my own.”

“Hiccup, you can’t even sit up without my help,” Dagur responded. The hair on the back of Hiccup’s neck stood on end as he knelt down behind his head. He stared fixedly ahead, refusing to look at him. 

“I can do it just fine.” Hiccup’s voice was hard, an attempt to hide his fear.

He cringed as Dagur grabbed either side of his head. “Dunk your head under and get your hair wet so I can wash it.”

“I can wash my own hair.”

Apparently Dagur wasn’t having any of his defiance today. He hardly had time to draw in a breath before his head was shoved under the water. 

_Oh no!_ His mind instantly flashed back to the time years ago where Dagur had practically drowned him just for the fun of it, but this time he was completely helpless.

Needless to say, Hiccup was very surprised when his head was quickly drawn back out. He gasped for breath.

“What? Did you think I was going to drown you?” 

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he answered breathlessly.

He flinched as Dagur began scrubbing soap into his hair – he couldn’t help it. Every touch from him put him on edge.

“Hiccup, could you try to relax for just a little bit?” Dagur asked with a sigh.

“Yeah, that’s real funny,” Hiccup responded snidely. How could he possibly expect him to relax?

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Uh huh. _Even_ funnier.”

Dagur growled low in his throat, but his touch remained gentle. Hiccup absolutely hated to admit it, but it felt good to have his hair washed by someone else. It sickened him at the same time though. Only lovers and married couples washed each other’s hair, and he and Dagur were definitely not either one of those things, no matter what the Berserker thought.

“I gotta undo these braids,” the chief said quietly, almost to himself. “They got all tangled.”

Hiccup’s eyes widened at the comment and his muscles tensed as he felt Dagur’s hands on the braids that Astrid had given him.

“No! Wait!”

“Why? They’re just two little braids.”

Hiccup closed his eyes. He didn’t think he’d be able to win this one, but this was the last thing he had to remind him of Astrid. Should he just outright tell him?

“Astrid did them,” he said resignedly. He was definitely going to lose them. An ache formed in his throat.

“Oh, so your little girlfriend liked playing with your hair, did she?” Dagur’s voice was taunting. 

“Please, just leave them,” Hiccup pleaded.

Dagur acted as if he hadn’t heard him. “Even more reason for me to get rid of them then. Can’t have anything from that bitch left on you.”

“D-d-don’t call her that.” His bottom lip trembled.

“Why not?” He began undoing one braid. “Fucking slut took your virginity before I could. That was mine! Not hers!” 

“Shut up.” His voice was weak.

Dagur probably didn’t even hear him. He just kept talking. “You think if I fucked her hard enough I could somehow steal it from her?” He’d finished undoing one braid, and was now going on to the other. Tears trailed down Hiccup’s face, but at least no one would be able to tell the difference between that and the bathwater. “Ooh! I’ve got a good idea! I’ll just shove a spear in her cunt and make it come out her mouth, tear her to shreds.” Dagur shuddered and actually moaned. Hiccup’s gut twisted and bile rose in his throat. 

“D-Dagur, stop. J-just stop talking about her.” He felt like if he said another word about Astrid he’d be sick. He had to take his mind off of her, and there was only one, horrible way he could do that. “Y-you have me. You don’t n-need her. You’ve got me. You don’t need anyone b-but me.”

“Mm, you are right about that, aren’t you Hiccup?” He finished undoing the last braid and he combed his fingers through his hair. Hiccup choked on a sob. That was it. They were gone. “I’ve got you, the only perfect thing in this world. You belong to me.” His voice had gotten dream-like all of a sudden.

Hiccup tightened his lips and gave a small nod.

“Good boy. You're finally accepting that. Of course it took branding you for you to realize it.” Dagur leaned in, placing a kiss on Hiccup’s cheek, and he tried not to shudder. “How is the brand anyway?” He began scrubbing at his hair again.

“Wh-what do you think? It hurts.”

 _Great, another topic of conversation I don’t like._ Hiccup hated anything to do with the crest burned into his flesh. It hurt badly, and served as a constant reminder of his new reality. He wasn’t his own person anymore. He was Dagur’s.

Dunking his head under the water again washed away his tears, and he tightened his jaw when he came back up. He was _not_ going to cry.

Dagur came around to the side of the tub, a sponge in hand. Hiccup shot out his hand and grabbed his wrist as he reached for him, halting his movements.

“I can do that myself.”

Dagur actually _pouted_ at him. “But _I_ wanna do it.” He grabbed onto Hiccup’s wrist with his other hand, trying to pry him loose. A wrestling match over the sponge ensued, and Dagur won of course. He had already been physically stronger than Hiccup before he had the injuries that were hindering him so much.

Giving in to defeat, Hiccup just tilted his head back against the edge of the tub and let his arms rest on the sides. There was no way around this, apparently, so it would be better to just cooperate and get it over with.

He was gentle washing around his stitches. It still stung though, and Hiccup gritted his teeth against the pain. He thankfully only washed around the brand, not actually touching it. Hiccup was actually starting to relax, but it was ruined when Dagur’s other hand was stroking over his chest. He didn’t give any protest at the moment, just tightened his lips and tried to ignore the touching.

But then the chief’s hands ventured lower, one washing his legs and the other groping between them. Hiccup’s entire body tensed up as he took his length into his hand.

“Dagur, stop it.”

“Why?” He asked the question obliviously. Of course he still didn’t understand that Hiccup didn’t want or like any of this, even though he was constantly telling him to stop.

“Because I don’t want you touching me there!” Hiccup cried. He shifted in the tub, tried pulling himself away from him, but that just sparked pain in the wound in his abdomen. He leaned his head back again, gasping.

“Hiccup, relax,” Dagur told him. “I don’t plan on hurting you.”

“Doesn’t matter.” He grunted as he was stroked to hardness. Why did his body have to betray him like this? He didn’t want it! He didn’t!

 _Stop, stop, stop,_ he tried telling it. _Stop it. Stop making it out like I want this._

He was relieved of Dagur’s touch as he dropped the sponge in the now-soapy-water and stood. Then he was leaning over and sliding his arms under him, scooping him up and out of the tub. Hiccup let him. It wasn’t like he could stand.

 _I need my prosthetic back._ The only way to do that, however, was to cooperate, and Hiccup didn’t think he had it in himself to do that. Why make any of this easy for him?

Dagur laid him down on his back on a towel that had been spread over the rug. Hiccup’s stomach clenched and heat washed through his veins. He closed his eyes as the Berserker began pulling off his tunic. He really didn’t want to see him naked.

“Dagur, isn’t this a little backwards?” he asked, hoping he could deter him. 

“What do you mean?” 

Hiccup swallowed hard as he heard him undoing his belt. “I mean, shouldn’t the bath have come after this and not before?” He knew it was a weak argument; the man really didn’t have much logic, and if he wanted something, he took it with no heed for anything else.

“Does it really matter? Besides, you look really hot all wet and turned on like that.”

Hiccup had no response. His breaths were coming in quick, terrified pants. He was planning on hitting him when he got close enough. He balled his hands into fists.

Dagur was settling himself down on top of him. Hiccup opened his eyes, then went to punch him in the face with his left hand. He dodged and let loose an angry growl, grabbing onto his wrists and pinning his arms down.

“Really, Hiccup?” He sounded annoyed. “This again?”

Hiccup fought to get his hands free. They were currently his only means of defending himself.

“Get off of me!” he shouted. He tried making himself sound angry rather than scared.

“Yeah, _no_.” Dagur had a sickly grin on his face. “I’ll do whatever I want with you. You’re mine, remember?” He released his right hand, but only to draw his fingers down over the brand. Hiccup gasped at the touch, tried once again to hit him. The movement was weak due to the pain he was in, and he only succeeded in batting him in the face a little.

“Stop fighting me!” Suddenly both of Dagur’s hands were wrapped around his neck, squeezing. Hiccup choked and grabbed onto him, trying to pull his fingers off. He thrashed under him, the movement threatening to tear his stitches. His chest heaved, lungs fighting for air.

He didn’t know how long he was like that, but Dagur only released him once he was on the verge of fainting. He climbed off of him, but he didn’t have the strength to move. He just lay there trying to refill his lungs.

Hiccup was rolled onto his stomach and his arms were pulled behind him. There was nothing he could do as a rope was securely tied around his wrists.

“D-Dagur, stop,” he rasped out. The man grabbed his hips and pulled him onto his knees, leaving him with his face pressed into the towel. He jolted as a hard slap landed on his rear.

“You stop it,” he retorted. He spanked him again and Hiccup released a cry. His legs shook.

He moaned in despair as Dagur stroked his fingers over his rim, his other hand grasping his hip tight enough to leave bruises. The tip of one finger breached him and he grunted in response. 

“Hiccup, relax and this won’t hurt you.” Dagur had released his hip to stroke over his back.

“Y-you’re insane,” he gasped out. How on earth was he expected to relax when he was being molested and raped?

“That’s already known to me, but thanks for the reminder.” He shoved his finger in down to the knuckle, and Hiccup gasped at the pain.

“Stop it! Stop, stop!”

“Hiccup, calm down.” He just kept caressing his back. “It’s just sex.”

“That I don’t want! Stop touching me! Stop it!” He was crying now. He had told himself he wouldn’t, but he couldn’t help it. This was just so awful. He sobbed as a second finger entered him. Though, it wasn’t as painful as it had been the last time, probably because he was still wet from his bath and Dagur’s fingers were wet as well.

“Sh, Hiccup, it’s okay.” Dagur was moving his fingers in and out of him now. “Relax your muscles and it won’t hurt. This can feel good. It’s supposed to feel good.”

Hiccup wanted to argue with him, but couldn’t find the words to. Maybe he should just listen to him.

He pulled in a deep, shuddering breath, exhaled slowly, then breathed in again. He tried telling his body to relax. He had no choice but to let this happen to him.

There was a noticeable difference in sensation as his muscles loosened, and the pain disappeared.

“That a boy, Hiccup. There’s a good boy.” Dagur’s voice was heavy with lust. He removed his fingers and Hiccup heard a cap being removed from a bottle. It seemed Dagur had the sense to use oil so as not to tear him.

He couldn’t hold in a whimper as he felt the head of Dagur’s cock press against his hole. He tugged uselessly at his bonds, wishing there was some way to escape this.

He moaned in discomfort as Dagur slid slowly inside of him. He grasped his hips with both hands, pulling him in to the movement.

Dagur shuddered in pleasure once he was fully sheathed inside of him.

“Gods, Hiccup, I’ve been dying to get back inside of you.” He began rocking his hips and Hiccup bit his lower lip to hold in a sob. This _definitely_ didn’t feel good.

He tried pulling his mind away from what was happening to him, making it go blank. He succeeded for a moment or two before sensation came back to him. He groaned, then tried again, really not wanting to feel what was going on.

His concentration was broken by a sudden burst of pleasure. He gave a cry and pulled at the rope. The pleasure came again as Dagur drove his hips forward, manhood making contact with something good inside of him.

“Oh yeah, I’m hitting your sweet spot, aren't I?”

Hiccup didn't respond save for moaning in a mix of pleasure and despair. He didn't like this one bit, but at the same time, it felt good. His body and mind weren't in agreement on this.

Dagur gave a loud moan and began working his hips faster. Hiccup would have cringed at the sound of flesh slapping flesh if not for being completely overwhelmed by physical sensation. His cock was craving attention and he gasped as Dagur began giving it just that, stroking it feverishly with one hand.

“ _Ah_ , oh, oh gods.”

“You enjoying yourself, Hiccup?”

“ _No…_ ” he moaned out. He’d never wanted anything like this from Dagur. And the fact that he was _inside_ of him… He was just so confused. His body clearly wanted this, his nerves reporting that it felt good, but that didn't mean that _he_ wanted it. He wished there was a way to somehow separate himself from this traitorous body. He wished he could die.

It didn't take long for Hiccup to reach orgasm. He shouted when he did, and Dagur worked him through it with his hand, stilling inside of him as his muscles contracted. 

He was grateful when he released his cock, now dripping and over sensitive – anymore contact would have begun to hurt him. He was _not_ grateful, however, when Dagur resumed thrusting into him, moaning out swears and curses.

“Hold on, babe, I’m almost there,” Dagur gasped out. “Just a little more.”

Hiccup wanted to tell him not to call him that, but he kept his mouth shut save for a small groan. His climax had left his insides sensitive too, and now Dagur was feeling too good inside of him. He wanted it to end, but he didn’t want Dagur cumming in him either. He didn’t have a choice in the matter though, and realizing this made hopeless tears well in his eyes.

“ _Ah! Fuck!_ ” Dagur yelled and shoved himself deep, holding onto Hiccup so tight he thought he would hear bone crack if his grip got any harder. He moaned at the feeling of his cock twitching and releasing his seed. He wanted to be sick.

It only lasted a matter of seconds, and Hiccup breathed out a sigh once it was done. Dagur had released his crushing hold on him and was running his hands over his ass and lower back, still sheathed in him.

“D-Dagur, could you, um, get out of me?” He felt awkward saying it and his face flushed red. He couldn’t even believe that he had to ask such a thing.

He hated the feeling of Dagur withdrawing from his body, though it was much better than him being in it. He wished he would just stop touching him though.

“And m-maybe untie me?” he asked tentatively. His knees shook and he felt like he was going to collapse onto his stomach, which he didn’t want to do with the wound in his abdomen.

“That was _excellent_ ,” Dagur breathed as he began undoing the rope around Hiccup’s wrists. “I haven’t had sex that good in a while.”

“Good for you,” he muttered, definitely not in the mood for talking with him. Though, it was morning, so he figured he probably had things to do. He hopefully wouldn’t be staying with him for too long. Hiccup just wanted to go back to sleep, and maybe take another bath to try to wash away Dagur’s touch and the cum dripping from his hole and down the backs of his thighs.

Once untied, Hiccup got his hands under him so that he was on his hands and knees. He was going to sit back, but jumped at the feeling of a wet sponge washing over his legs and rear. The water was cold now, and he flinched as the sponge ventured to clean between his legs. He decided against saying anything however. Now wasn’t the time.

Dagur pulled the sponge away. “There we go! See? There’s no problem with fucking after a bath.” His hands were on his hips again, and Hiccup was wondering why till he was flipped over onto his back. He released a startled yelp and flailed a little. The chief straddled him and then suddenly his lips were on his. Hiccup tried desperately to pull his head away, but hands came up to hold onto his face so he couldn’t move.

Dagur pulled away for a moment. He looked like he was going to say something, but Hiccup beat him to it.

“If you kiss me again, I swear I’ll bite you,” he threatened, not at all happy with the situation. 

“No you won’t,” Dagur said with a smirk. “Because if you do ever bite me, I’m cutting off your left thumb. Pretty sure that’s an important finger, right?” He stroked over Hiccup’s lower lip with his own thumb and the Dragon Rider shivered. “Especially since you’re left handed. Where would you be without your thumb?”

Hiccup honestly couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not. Dagur had seemed to regret causing him severe injury, but at the time of inflicting it, he had definitely enjoyed it. He didn’t know whether or not he would hesitate to cut off a finger, a finger that Hiccup most definitely wanted to keep.

Dagur just tilted his head, looking as if he was waiting for a response.

“I-I like my left thumb,” Hiccup finally said, voice weak. “Comes in handy for a lot of things, you know?”

“Good boy. You’re learning.”

Then Dagur kissed him again, shoving his tongue into his mouth. Hiccup didn’t bite him, but he still fought to make this stop. Finally, he was able to pull his head away.

“Dagur, don’t you have things you have to do?” he asked, eyes narrowed. He just really wanted to be rid of him for a few hours.

“Ah, they can wait a bit.” He pushed Hiccup’s head back and pressed a kiss into his neck. “It would be rude to just fuck you and leave.”

_I would prefer that._

Hiccup wisely didn’t say this out loud. He just closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. He could do nothing but wait this out.


	26. Chapter 25

“You know, Dagur, when I asked for clothes, I meant _real_ clothes,” Hiccup said, eyeing the garment that the Berserker chief held before him. “Like, a pair of pants and a tunic.”

Dagur snorted, then lowered the red robe he was holding with an exasperated roll of his eyes. “That would be pointless, Hiccup, _and_ harder for me to take off of you.” He shook the robe in front of him. “Now, you gonna let me put it on you or not? I got it special for you. You look good in red.”

Hiccup made a disgusted sound in his throat, but didn’t otherwise comment. With a grunt of pain, he pushed himself up to stand on his one leg, then lifted his arms so Dagur could put it on him. He hated how the man had to help him with the simplest of movements due to the injuries he’d caused him.

Dagur pulled the sleeves over his arms, then surprised Hiccup by closing it in the front and tying the sash to keep it closed. He admitted that it felt nice to have some form of clothing on him.

“Mm, you look good, Hiccup,” Dagur commented, running his hands over his chest. Hiccup pointedly didn’t look at him, over his shoulder instead. “You gonna be a good boy and say thank you?”

“I’m not thanking you for something you should have given me in the first place.”

Dagur’s hand suddenly connected with Hiccup’s face in a hard slap and he sat down hard, hand to his stinging left cheek. Then he was grabbed under the chin and forced to look up at the Berserker chief.

“Hiccup, I’m not in the mood for your shit right now, so you’re gonna say thank you or-”

“Or what? You’ll spank me?” he retorted. He wasn’t afraid of him at the moment, just angry – and feeling more confident now that he had some clothing.

“You’re kind of asking for it,” Dagur growled, squeezing his jaw. Hiccup just glared at him. But then, surprisingly, the man let go of him and breathed a tired sigh. He turned away from him and ran a hand through his unruly red hair. “But not tonight. You’re gonna be on your own for a bit. I have to go to another meeting with my generals.”

Hiccup felt like he could say almost anything now that he knew Dagur couldn’t retaliate. 

“Yeah, that’s what happens when you run around starting wars. Thought you would have figured that out by now. Then again, you’re not necessarily the smartest person out there.”

Dagur turned on him with a murderous glint in his eye. He poked him hard in the chest and Hiccup kept himself from shrinking back, refusing to back down.

“You shut up right now or I’m taking that robe back!” he yelled at him. “And I’m not that smart? Seriously, Hiccup?! I’m smart enough to have captured you and I’m smart enough to keep anyone from finding you!”

Hiccup actually drew back, startled by the last comment. What did he mean?

Dagur laughed at his shocked expression. “Oh, Hiccup, of _course_ I’m proactively trying to keep anyone from finding you! I’m not just gonna sit here and wait to be attacked!” He shoved him in the shoulder. “Who’s the stupid one now, huh?”

Hiccup’s confidence abruptly vanished. “What do you mean?” 

“Well, obviously I mean that I have a little decoy camp set up on the Iron Isle,” Dagur answered, seeming proud of himself in a devious way. “And your pathetic little friends will focus their attention on that instead of _actually_ trying to find you.”

Hiccup felt like he’d been punched in the stomach and his heart sank. He could feel what little hope he had leaking out of him, like he was a bowl with cracks in it. But then he thought of something.

“What if one of your soldiers over there talks and gives out your real location?” Hiccup asked. “That ever occur to you, _genius?_ ” He couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice. He was just feeling so hurt by this new information.

“As a matter of fact, it did,” Dagur stated, putting his hands on his hips and beaming at him. “None of those men know where I really am.”

Hiccup’s face fell and his mouth parted a little. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The cracks widened.

“Oh come _on_ , babe, you know I’m paranoid! I can’t let everyone know where I am all the time, even if they do work for me.”

Hiccup’s crestfallen look turned into a glare. “Don’t call me that.”

“Whatever, cockslut.” Dagur chuckled. “You like that one better?”

Hiccup made an angry sound in his throat, but didn’t otherwise respond. He wasn’t going to win this one. His face burned in a mixture of shame and frustration. He was pretty sure he preferred being called “babe” and “baby” over this new one Dagur had suggested.

“I guess not.” He gave him a cruel, smug smile. “Well, I’ll be leaving now, _babe_ , and you better eat your dinner when it gets here or I swear to Odin I’ll be shoving more than just that down your throat.”

Hiccup kept up his glare until Dagur left the tent. When he was alone, he lost all semblance of strength, laying down on his side and curling into a ball. He wasn’t going to be found anytime soon. His nearly constant torment would continue. He had no one to rely on but himself, and he didn’t even have two legs to walk on.

Now he was going to have to cooperate with Dagur. He _needed_ his leg back. There was no question about it.

He wanted to cry, but tears wouldn’t come. His chest and throat tightened. His brand burned and itched.

He felt like he lay there on the cot forever, wallowing in his own misery, but then he was broken out of his thoughts by the sound of someone gently clearing their throat. He lifted his head, peered through the gathering darkness to see a dark-haired girl standing near the one table in the tent. She seemed to be a couple years younger than him.

“I brought you dinner,” she said a little awkwardly.

“Thank you.” Hiccup didn’t make a move towards the table, however. Trying to get over there on his one leg would be embarrassing. He’d do it when she was gone.

Her eyes flitted down towards the stump of his leg. “D-do you need help?”

Hiccup blushed a little. He wasn’t usually embarrassed by his disability, but this was a new situation in an unfamiliar place with a person he’d never met before. Of course he was going to feel a little uncomfortable about it.

He forced a smile onto his face. “If you don’t mind.”

“Of course not.” She came over to him and slid an arm under his. He pushed himself up with a grunt, trying not to lean too heavily on the girl – she was much smaller than him.

The chain on his foot rattled as he shambled over to the table with her help. He didn’t like the sound one bit. It just seemed to taunt him about his current situation.

Once he was sitting at the table before a tray of food, the girl turned to leave, but Hiccup stopped her with a gentle hand on her wrist.

“Wait, what’s your name?”

She looked a little shocked as she turned back to him. “My name?”

Hiccup nodded. He was dying to have someone to talk to that wasn’t Dagur, and he was wondering if maybe she could stay with him for a while.

“Uh, it’s Bryn.”

The next smile he gave her was a little more real. “Well, thank you, Bryn. Um…” He wet his lips with his tongue. “Do you… Do you think you can stay for a bit?”

Bryn looked around uneasily, as if expecting there to be someone else present other than the two of them.

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea…”

“Dagur won’t be back for a few hours,” Hiccup informed her. He was really hoping he wouldn’t have to be left alone to dwell on his thoughts.

“Well, I don’t have anything I have to be doing,” she reasoned. “Just let me light a few lanterns so it’s not so dark in here.”

Hiccup’s smile deepened and he dipped his head towards her in gratitude, glad to have someone’s company. He started eating as Bryn moved about the tent lighting the lanterns and the one brazier close to the cot. She came back over with a lantern in hand, placing it on the table. She suddenly gasped.

“What? What is it?” Hiccup asked, senses suddenly on alert. He surveyed the tent to double check that they were alone, then realized that she was looking at _him_. “Oh, uh…”

“What happened to you?” she asked gently, sitting down across from him.

Hiccup hadn’t had time to think about his appearance, but he realized that he must look awful. He could feel the healing bruises on the right side of his neck from the spikes Viggo had driven into him, and the rest of his neck must be covered in marks from Dagur’s mouth. He rubbed a hand over his jaw, could feel a bite mark on it.

“Um, ah… Dagur,” was all he managed to get out. He wasn’t about to tell this girl about the horrors he’d gone through.

“Oh.” She looked down at the table for a moment, then back at him. “So, you know my name, but what’s yours?”

“Hiccup.”

“Hiccup? Are you serious?” She tilted her head a little.

“Yeah, on Berk we think an ugly name will scare away the gnomes and trolls or something like that,” Hiccup explained.

“Berk? You’re from Berk? How’d you end up here? Were you sold?”

“What? No! Berk doesn’t deal in the slave trade!” Hiccup exclaimed. This girl didn’t seem to know very much. He’d just assumed – hoped, really – that she was a servant, but her lacking knowledge seemed to prove otherwise. “And what makes you think I’m a slave anyway?”

Bryn shrugged almost casually. “I’m a slave and you definitely have less freedom than I do, so you can’t be anything but. And, uh, your brand is showing a little.” She pointed to the left side of his chest.

Hiccup hurriedly pulled his robe tightly shut. “I’m _not_ a slave.”

“Okay, okay.” She held up her hands defensively. “Sorry.”

There was a moment of silence as he continued eating, now wondering if he should ask her to leave. Conversation wasn’t really making him feel any better.

“It’s not always going to look that bad,” she told him. “It’ll scab over first.”

Hiccup took a drink of water. He was afraid to ask, but: “How is it going to look when it’s done healing?”

Bryn stood and came over to him, then turned her back and pulled down the sleeve of her dress to bare her right shoulder. She too, had the Berserker crest burned into her, but her brand was definitely fully healed. It was a raised portion of skin that was a few shades darker than the rest of her. He pulled back his robe a little and looked down at his own brand. It was angry and red and covered in scabs. He frowned at it. 

“See? Not so bad,” Bryn said as she went over and sat back down.

Hiccup snorted, but didn’t say anything. Not so bad? It was one of the worst things in the world to him. It had completely taken away who he was. Though, it occurred to him that maybe Bryn hadn’t ever been anyone before, that maybe she’d been a slave for as long she could remember.

“How old are you?” he asked.

“Fourteen,” she answered.

“And how long have you-”

“For as long as I can remember,” she answered, obviously knowing what he had been going to ask. “It’s not so bad for me. I just cook and clean and such. What do you…?” She paused, seeming uncomfortable as she looked him over again. “What do you do?” she asked, voice quieter.

Hiccup was a little taken aback by her innocence, but then maybe he shouldn’t have been. Her life was extremely different than what his had been. 

“Mostly sass Dagur and get my ass kicked for it. It’s a thankless job, but someone’s gotta insult him.”

“You speak of him as if he’s not a chief.” Bryn looked a little astonished.

“Oh, I’m even worse to his face.” Hiccup gave a small smile.

“How have you kept him from killing you?” She looked terribly confused.

Hiccup shrugged. “I guess he likes my insults.”

Bryn laughed a little. It was a nice sound. The only laughter he’d been hearing recently was Dagur’s insane cackling. “You’re weird, Hiccup.”

“Thank you.”

She laughed again, but then grew serious. “Honestly, what is it that you do? Why are you chained up in here?”

Hiccup suddenly lost all sense of humor. He looked away from her.

“It’s not something you need to know.”

“But-”

“Please, it’s just better if you don’t know.” He looked back to her, met her gaze, hoping that she would understand and drop the topic. 

“Oh, um, alright.”

“Thank you.”

They continued talking as Hiccup ate, and he found that he really liked this girl. She was sweet and somehow had a strong spirit and natural wonder for things though she’d been a slave her whole life. There was an enthusiasm to her that he found refreshing. And the best part about her was that she made him smile. That was something he hadn’t genuinely done in a while. He didn’t know how long though. He had begun losing track of the days.

Bryn stayed for a while longer even after he finished eating, and they talked and laughed together, genuinely enjoying each other’s company. Hiccup was disappointed when she had to go, but when she left there was a bit of a happiness that stayed behind. It seemed he’d found a friend.


	27. Chapter 26

“Oh, Hiccup!”

He flinched at the voice that sang in his ear, tried rolling away from it but was met with pain in his body. Though, with a discontented moan, he managed to roll onto his side; that didn’t feel much better.

Lips dragged over the side of his face, a beard scratching at his skin, and he cringed, tried not to shudder.

“Good morning, sleepy. Time to wake up!”

The lips were now over his right ear, sucking lightly on the curve of it. Hiccup brought up his arm to try to move his assailant off of him, but his wrist was grabbed and his arm shoved back down. There was a body pressed into his, and something uncomfortably familiar against his backside. There was no clothing: just skin against skin.

“Dagur, stop it. You’ll tear my stitches,” Hiccup complained. He had to come up with some way to keep Dagur from doing this to him. This was definitely not the kind of awakening that he wanted.

“They’ll tear if you fight me,” Dagur breathed against his neck. “Try not to move.”

“Try not to move while you're sexually assaulting me? Yeah, sure thing.” Hiccup’s tone was mocking, his voice stronger than how the rest of him felt. He was trembling.

A hand was suddenly in his hair and wrenching his head to the side. Hiccup was expecting Dagur to shout in his face, but instead his lips crashed into his and his mouth was forced open with his tongue. If he hadn’t been pulled from the haze of sleep before, he most certainly was now.

“Mmph!” Hiccup protested, shutting his eyes. He found the strength to roll onto his back and bat at Dagur's chest, but he was weak and his various injuries were still healing.

“Though I do like the access this position gives me to your mouth,” Dagur started, pulling away, “I want you on your stomach.” 

Fear and anxiety burned in Hiccup’s stomach and he opened his eyes to give Dagur a pleading look. The man was running his fingers through his hair, meeting his gaze. He was looking at him expectantly, as if he thought that he would move on his own.

“Get off of me,” Hiccup whispered. Terrified tears stung at his eyes. He tried blinking them away, but that just made them slide freely down his cheeks.

“Mm-mm.” Dagur shook his head, then laughed very loudly, moving his hands to take ahold of Hiccup’s waist. He found he didn't have the strength to struggle as he was rolled onto his stomach.

“Dagur, _stop_.”

“I want you to be saying: ‘Dagur, don't stop. Dagur, go harder.’ Now get on your hands and knees.” He sounded amused at all this.

“N-No.”

“Excuse me?” His fingers tightened on his waist, digging into his sore ribs. Hiccup released a cry, then found himself doing what Dagur wanted. He hung his head as a sign of defeat.

“There you go, Hiccup.” He released him and patted him on the back. “Don't worry. I heard sex is a great painkiller.”

Hiccup didn't bother replying to that, though he wanted to keep protesting and arguing. Instead he just tried bracing himself for what was coming.

He flinched as Dagur placed one hand on his ass, the fingers of his other circling at his hole. It almost felt good, but his gut twisted in revulsion. This wasn't _right_.

Hiccup gasped as Dagur slid one finger into him, all the way to the last joint. It burned inside of him and he dreaded what more there was to come.

“Dagur, stop it,” he pleaded. He didn't care if he wouldn't listen to him; some part of him still felt the need to ask for mercy.

“But we’ve hardly gotten started! I'm just opening you up first.” His other hand stroked over his back and Hiccup couldn't hold back a shudder. “Just relax. I’ll make you feel good.” He worked his finger inside him, bent it a little. “Besides, tensing will make it hurt.”

“It already hurts, you fucked up lunatic,” he spat at him. Oh, that felt good to say.

Without warning, Dagur inserted a second finger, quick and unforgiving. Hiccup bit down over a startled yelp. He’d known he’d get some sort of reparation for his words.

“You see, that's because you're not relaxed. Seriously. Not lying about that.” He kept caressing his back, meanwhile circling his fingers inside of him to open him up. Hiccup gritted his teeth over another insult. Maybe he should just make this easy for himself. He did need his prosthetic back.

He was angry and terrified all at once, and he pulled in a breath so that he wouldn't start shaking. He wouldn't give Dagur the satisfaction of that.

Hiccup gasped a little when his fingers were suddenly gone, but then he was tightly gripping his ass, the other no doubt holding his cock to position it. He couldn't hold in a whimper as he felt the head press against his now-stretched hole.

“Ah, see? You already want me. And it’ll be more fun for you since I’m all slicked up this time. Just have to get it in there first.”

Hiccup gasped loudly and his back arched as the head of Dagur’s cock painfully entered his body. And then the rest of it slid in after, giving him no time to adjust to it. He tried to figure out how to breathe through the pain.

Dagur groaned and took ahold of his hips.

“Oh gods you feel good.” He gave a small thrust and Hiccup yelped at the burning friction. “I bet I feel good inside you. You like my big cock in your ass, huh?”

Hiccup whimpered and shook his head. His mouth fell open in a moan as Dagur slowly pulled out of him and pushed back in. This time, something good accompanied it, Dagur's length pressing against that strange pleasure spot. He unconsciously arched into him to try to get more of it, whatever _it_ was. 

“Oh! We found your good spot!” Dagur exclaimed.

Hiccup came back to himself at that voice. This wasn't good. Or wanted. This was Dagur, and he was hurting him everywhere save for that one little spot. 

“I-I don't want this,” he begged tearfully. Dagur pushed in and out of him again, faster this time, and he moaned. He kept it up instead of stopping though. 

“Really? You totally sound like it.”

Hiccup shook his head again, released a mix of a moan and a sob. It was _awful_. It just struck him that Dagur was _inside_ of him, their bodies connected in a way that he’d never wanted from anyone, let alone the chief of the Berserkers.

What was even more awful was the way his member pressed against whatever it was inside of him that was sending waves of pleasure through his body and hardening his groin. He hadn't asked Dagur to make him feel good. It left him feeling utterly vulnerable, and he wished that he was hurting him instead, that he was beating him or cutting him. Anything but this abysmal, all too intimate connection.

Dagur grunted and tightened his hold on Hiccup’s hips, pulled him into his movements. He groaned through his teeth as Dagur was forced deeper.

“Yeah, that’s good, right?” 

“Shu- _ah!_ \- Shut up.”

“Don’t feel like it. Fuck, this is fantastic! I’ve got you right where I want you.”

Hiccup moaned in a mix of pain, despair, and pleasure. How could something feel so good but hurt at the same time? Why was his body even enjoying this? He felt like it was betraying him.

“That sweet spot’s nice, isn’t it?” 

Hiccup moaned again and shook his head, even as his body tried telling him that yes, it was nice. It was more than nice.

Dagur’s right hand snaked underneath him, taking ahold of his swollen length. He rubbed at it as he continued rocking into him.

“ _Hungh!_ Oh gods!” Hiccup arched at this additional pleasure, stitches pulling painfully at his skin. Gods, it felt good. His mind was dissolving into his body’s desires, forgetting who was doing this to him, where he was. All that mattered was how fantastic it felt. He shouted out his pleasure, not caring who heard.

“There you go, Hiccup.” Dagur leaned over him and placed a kiss on his neck. “There you go. You like that, huh?”

“St-stop,” he gasped out, even as he found his hips rocking into that hand. Gods, but it really did feel good. And the sensation of Dagur inside him wasn't hurting so much anymore as he adjusted to it; it was like his cock was stroking his insides.

Dagur’s other hand wrapped around to his chest, suddenly pulling him upright. He was on his knees, held flush against the other man’s body. His movements slowed to a gentle rhythm, his strokes deep, pressing against that all-too-wonderful spot inside of him.

Hiccup felt like he had to hold onto something, but didn't know what. But then one hand gripped at Dagur’s wrist on the arm that was clutching his member, the other digging its fingers into Dagur’s bare leg just above his knee. 

Dagur ran his hand from his chest and into his hair, pulled on it to turn his head towards him. His moans were cut off as Dagur’s lips were pressed to his. He would have fought save for the burning pain in his wounds. This was already putting too much strain on them.

The kiss was longer than he liked, but then Dagur yanked his head back and his lips found his neck. Hiccup groaned loudly, becoming completely overwhelmed by sensation. Dagur had never made him feel this good before, had never been this gentle and attentive to what he was feeling. It seemed the man thought he was making love to him rather than raping him.

“Ah, Hiccup, see how great it is when you don't fight me?” Dagur rumbled against his neck. He nipped lightly at his skin, hand releasing his hair. Hiccup kept his head tilted for him though, was utterly at a loss of what to do, especially when it felt this nice. A battle was raging on inside him, hidden behind the pleasure for the moment. That hand traveled downwards until it was rubbing at his nipple. Dammit, but that felt good too! He moaned louder and rolled into the touch.

He whined in protest as Dagur’s hand released his cock to grip his thigh instead. He thrusted at empty air, missing the sensation.

Dagur kissed his shoulder. “Sorry, Hiccup. Don't want you cumming too early.” He groaned and bowed his head against him, hips keeping up their rhythm. “ _Fuck_ , this is excellent. You feel so fucking good around me.”

“Shut… up…” Hiccup gasped out. Dagur's voice was making it worse, making it so that his mind was coming back to him. He shoved his own conscience away, wanted his body to take over and get him through this. That was the only way.

“But I like talking.” A grunt. Lips against his neck. Then teeth on his ear. “Makes it better.”

Hiccup wanted to shake his head, but Dagur’s hand was in his hair again, stroking and caressing.

“You like my nice, hard cock?” Dagur accentuated the question by quitting the rhythm and slamming into him hard and staying there for a moment. Hiccup cried out at the sensation. “Like the way I hit that spot inside of you?” He pulled his hips back and snapped them forward, rocking Hiccup’s entire body. He yelped at the pleasure it gave him. But his voice… he felt his fight coming back into him, his mind begging to return and end this.

“No, I want you to stop.”

“Is that so?” Dagur began thrusting again, hard and fast, bringing whimpers up from Hiccup’s throat. “Five seconds ago you were enjoying this.”

“No, no! Stop!” He gasped out. He tried twisting his head out of his grip, but he held on harder to his hair, pulled his head back so he could suck and nibble at his neck. His movements were rough and he wrapped his other hand around his middle to keep him in place. Hiccup tried squirming out of his grip, but it was too strong, and too much movement stung at his wounds, pulling on his stitches and threatening to tear them. A desperate sob escaped his throat. He balled his hands into fists and tried hitting Dagur, but he was in an awkward position to do so. He couldn't do anything to stop this. And, with that horrible realization, he stopped moving altogether, went back to finding a hold on Dagur to get himself through this.

“Good boy, Hiccup,” Dagur growled against his throat, sending a shiver down his spine. His hand caressed the front of his body till he was once again stroking his cock, and Hiccup cried out at the contact.

Dagur's mouth moved from his neck to his, and there was nothing he could do as he shoved his tongue inside. Tears fell from his tightly shut eyes. 

Then his tongue was gone, but only so he could suck and chew on his bottom lip. His hip movements were losing their ferocity and the pleasure had gone back to being slow and sweet. 

“That a boy, Hiccup,” Dagur groaned against his cheek, making him cringe. “Are you gonna be good and cum for daddy?”

“Shut up,” he gasped out. This was disgusting. And shameful. He was being utterly violated, yet his body was enjoying it. He _hated_ it. He wished that he wouldn't reach his climax, but it was inevitable. It would happen at some point.

“Or maybe I shouldn't let you cum,” he mused against his skin. “Make you beg for it.”

Hiccup had nothing to say to that. Either option sounded dreadful.

“Ooh, I got another idea.” Dagur nipped at his ear and he whimpered.

“Well, wh-what has your screwed u-up brain thought of now?” Hiccup asked as sarcastically as he could with pleasure and fear still dominating his body.

Dagur grunted, his pace quickening a little. Hiccup inwardly cringed at the sound of flesh hitting flesh. He was stroking his cock in time with his thrusts, and Hiccup moaned rather loudly.

“Rest assured, it still involves you cumming,” Dagur growled out. “But the rest is a surprise.” With that, he shoved him back down on all fours, and Hiccup yelped at the movement. Then before he could adjust himself, Dagur was fucking him hard and fast. Each breath turned into a moan or a cry, and his nerves couldn't keep up with what was going on. His cock was growing more sensitive in Dagur’s hand, the pleasure inside of him intensifying. He didn't want to cum though. 

“ _Oh_ , you're close, aren't you, Hiccup?” 

He shook his head in a lie, clenched his stomach muscles to see if he could somehow hold it back. Everything about Dagur making him climax was wrong. It was shameful and horrific.

But gods, it just kept building and building. Hiccup held his breath, whined in his throat, trying his best to hold it off.

“Come on, Hiccup,” Dagur grunted. “Cum for me, brother.”

He bit his lip and shook his head, body aching from holding his breath and clenching his muscles so tightly. The rising pressure at the base of his spine was growing to be too much for him to handle though, and he couldn't hold it off any longer. Giving in to defeat, Hiccup released his breath in a cry, finally letting his climax crash over him. Dagur slowed inside of him, but worked him through it with his hand. Hiccup couldn't keep in a scream at the pleasure that lit him on fire and made white flash behind his eyelids. His cock twitched in Dagur's stroking hand and spurted his seed, muscles spasming around the other man's cock.

Hiccup's scream died into breathless moans as the pleasure slowly subsided. Dagur leaned over him, pressed his free hand beside him. His lips were at his ear, his breaths harsh.

“Good boy, Hiccup. Good boy.” His hand was still working at his member, slow and achingly sweet, and he was sliding slowly in and out of him. 

“Get off of me,” Hiccup gasped out. The pleasure was now coming back to him, but it was _too_ good, nearly painful. Not much longer and it would be. He whimpered.

Dagur didn't respond, instead inhaled deeply and chewed on his ear.

No, no, it was starting to hurt now. He was overly sensitive after his climax, and the pleasure was quickly turning into pain.

Hiccup cried out and twisted his head away, pulling his ear from Dagur's mouth. He found himself arching into his gentle thrusts to try and escape the hand that refused to stop its movements, but it just followed him. Pain burned through his veins.

“Dagur, _stop_ ,” he moaned pleadingly. “I-it hurts.”

“Yeah?” He questioned, voice low and husky from arousal.

“Yes, yes. Please stop!” Tears stung at the corners of his eyes. He hoped the Berserker chief would actually listen to him.

His fingers squeezed just beneath the head and Hiccup couldn't find his breath. He wished there was someway he could move and escape it and get Dagur off of him, but he was trapped by the position.

“Is it a good hurting?”

“N-no,” he managed to get out. He wanted to say something along the lines of not being a masochist, but his mouth wasn't working properly. All it seemed capable of was releasing undignified-sounding cries.

Dagur groaned and nipped at the back of his neck. “Just hold on, Hiccup,” he spoke against his skin. “Hold on for a bit, okay? It’ll start feeling good again.”

 _But I don't want that either!_ All Hiccup wanted was for Dagur to leave him alone and let him rest, but that was definitely not about to happen.

“Oh _gods!_ ” Hiccup shouted as Dagur picked up the pace with both his hips and his hand. It was all such a strange contrast. His cock was screaming in agony while his insides welcomed the rough slide of Dagur inside of him. He actually hoped that he was right about it not hurting soon.

In a few moments, pleasure began to break through the pain, and it began to seep out of him. He could feel himself growing hard in Dagur’s hand again.

“No, no, no,” he whimpered despairingly. 

“I thought you didn't like the hurting,” Dagur said before nipping at his ear.

“I-I don't like any of it. _Ahh!_ ” The pain was completely gone now, and the pleasure was like nothing he’d ever felt before. This wasn't _fair!_ Why did he have to make him feel like this?

Dagur slowed to a stop, and Hiccup was thinking it was too good to be true. He pulled all the way out of him, released his cock. Hiccup let out a relieved breath, but then he was suddenly being wrestled around onto his back.

“Hey!”

Dagur had himself pressed between his legs. His eyes burned with lust. “Don't you dare hit me,” he warned.

Hiccup snorted. “And why would I listen to you?” His fingers twitched a little, wishing to ball into fists.

“Because I was nice and didn't tie you up before waking you,” Dagur responded. “Or, you know, I could just tie you up now and fuck you mercilessly instead of taking the time to care about how you feel. Which I’ve been doing if you haven't noticed. So, you gonna be good for me?”

Hiccup didn't move or say anything for a few moments, trying to steady his breathing. But then he decided he didn't want a repeat of what had left him with all these stitches. He closed his eyes resignedly and nodded.

“I knew you could be reasonable sometimes.”

Hiccup gasped as Dagur was suddenly pressed against him with his mouth latched onto his left nipple, his huge hands stroking all over his body. It was like there was some invisible cord between his nipple and his cock, somehow transferring the pleasure downward. He moaned and grabbed onto the blankets underneath him.

Dagur pulled his mouth off of him but just began rubbing at his nipples with his thumbs. Hiccup couldn't stop his body from moving into the contact.

“I bet I’m teaching you so many new things about your body,” the chieftain breathed. “Like this for instance.” He increased the pressure of his touches for emphasis and Hiccup inhaled sharply. “Bet you didn't know that felt so good.”

“C-Could you please stop t-talking?”

“And then you definitely didn't have a clue that having fingers or a dick up your ass was so nice,” Dagur continued as if he hadn't heard him. Hiccup felt utterly disgusted by his words. He was making it out like he wanted this.

One hand kept up stroking and squeezing a nipple while the other moved down and between his legs, completely avoiding where his erect manhood rested against his stomach. Hiccup nearly whined. _He_ didn't want to be touched there, but his body did.

“And that nice spot inside of you? It's called the prostate. Turns out it can also be stimulated from the outside.” Dagur's fingers pressed at a spot just beneath his balls and Hiccup’s voice hummed in appreciation without his consent. His hips bucked a little.

 _Stop, stop._ He didn't see any point in saying the words though.

Dagur massaged that spot slowly, drawing a moan out of him. His hips were moving into the touch with a constant rhythm now. His body was trying to tell him that he wanted his cock to be touched too. He wished he could somehow shut down physical sensation, at least for the time being.

“H-How do you know all this?” Hiccup couldn't help questioning, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“Got fucked a lot in prison,” Dagur responded almost casually. “Think their intent was to rape, but damn it was just too good. Plus I experimented alone or with anyone I could get my hands on. All to figure out how to make you feel good.”

Hiccup would have scrunched up his face in disgust, but his mouth fell open with a moan instead as Dagur moved his hand upwards to fondle his balls. Oh gods, and then he had his hand wrapped around his cock and was pumping it rather vigorously.

“St-stop,” he managed to stutter out. He couldn't let Dagur think for one second that this was consensual. That was easier to do when he was fighting him and his damn body wasn't enjoying it so much. Tears stung at the corners of his eyes. He felt disgusting and shameful, being forced to enjoy this violation. He knew it was all biology and that he couldn't help it, and maybe that was what made it worse, that Dagur was taking advantage of something that he had no control of.

“Hiccup, just stop talking would you?” Dagur sounded frustrated. “Let me do all the talking. Got it?”

Hiccup shook his head and moaned, gripped the blankets tighter to keep himself from hitting him. His chest heaved wildly.

“Stop touching me, stop touching me,” he pleaded.

“What was that, Hiccup? Couldn't hear you over the sound of you so evidently enjoying this.” His voice was horrible and taunting.

Hiccup growled in response, didn't know what to say if Dagur wouldn't listen. His hand was gone from his nipple, gripping his hip instead. The man leaned over him and pressed a kiss to his collarbone, his cock now touching his own. He wrapped his hand around both of them and began thrusting against him.

Hiccup grunted and gritted his teeth to remain quiet. He twisted his head away as Dagur's mouth touched his own, tightly pursed his lips.

“Mmm, that's the stuff, isn't it, Hiccup?” Dagur purred against his ear. The Dragon Rider shuddered at his voice being so close. “A nice hard cock against your own? Fucking _awesome_.”

Hiccup's stomach twisted at Dagur's vulgarities, a moan slipping past his lips without him wanting it to.

Dagur was grinding against him much harder now, and Hiccup tried to stay still and frozen underneath him, though his body wanted to move with him, to take part in its own assault.

The Berserker was speaking against his neck now, pausing every now and then to suck at his skin. His words weren't even meaningful, just him going into some unnerving sex chant.

“Fuck, Hiccup, you're so hot. So, so hot. Yeah, _yeah_. Fuck yes! _Fuck!_ ”

Hiccup whined at the awful pleasure he was feeling and tried to shut down his hearing as Dagur just kept rambling on. It was hard when his words turned into yells though.

Oh gods, he felt like he was going to cum again, and he could tell Dagur was close too. In one last futile attempt at escape he tried twisting out from under him, but he was properly trapped by the position.

His climax hit him a few moments later, his hips rising upwards and a cry leaving his mouth. Dagur wasn't very far behind, their cum decorating each other's chests.

“ _Shit_ , Hiccup!” Dagur shouted as his climax reached its intensity. And then they were both finished, Dagur releasing him and slumping down on top of him, apparently not caring about the mess between them. He pressed his nose into his neck, gasping.

Hiccup just wanted him to get off of him, didn't want Dagur to get the idea in his head that cuddling him after raping him was okay. He tried to remain rigid, but fatigue and soreness ended up loosening up his muscles and forcing his body to relax.

Dagur lazily brought up an arm and wrapped it around him. Hiccup could feel him smiling against his neck. He felt sick, was all too aware of every part of them that was touching, of how his weight felt on top of him, how his body was hot against his, how his breath made the hair on his neck stand up, how he smelled, how their seed mingled together against their skin.

“That was _awesome_ ,” Dagur commented. “Damn, I needed that.”

“Good for you. Now get off.” His voice shook a little.

“Oh come on, you wouldn't have orgasmed twice if you didn't like it.” The words were teasing. Hiccup’s face burned in shame.

“I-It’s not my fault,” he stammered. “St-stop trying to tell me that I like this. I-I don't.”

“Hiccup-”

“It’s not my fault!” He suddenly shouted. His hands were on Dagur’s shoulders, trying to shove him away. Tears fell freely now. “It’s not my fault! It’s not my fault!” He thrashed, no longer caring if he tore his stitches. It would get Dagur off of him at least.

Dagur straddled him, grabbed onto his flailing arms and shoved them downwards.

“Hiccup, you're gonna hurt yourself.” He actually sounded concerned.

“Let go of me! Let go!”

“ _Hiccup!_ ” Dagur shrieked at him, slamming his arms down again. “Stop moving!”

Hiccup yelped as pain tore through his abdomen, stilled his movements even though he didn't want to. He suddenly felt like he’d been torn like a piece of paper. Gasping for breath, he looked down at himself in shock, red glaring against his skin. It took him a moment or two to comprehend what had happened. 

“Look at that, Hiccup,” Dagur said in obvious frustration and anger, but there was still some concern laced in there. “Now who's fault is that, huh?” He _finally_ climbed off of him. Despite the pain he was feeling, he thought maybe it was worth it. 

Grumbling under his breath, Dagur turned his back to him and began wiping himself down with a cloth before grabbing his pants and pulling them on. Hiccup just looked at the blood trickling out of him. He silently willed it to go faster, to leave his body in a rush and kill him. He twisted a little with a grunt, seeing if he could possibly pull more of his stitches. Some part of him knew that this was all crazy and questioned why he wanted to die, but he blocked it out. That part was in the wrong.

“Don’t you fucking move!” Dagur ordered. Suddenly he was above him, grabbing his hands. Hiccup kicked out at him with his one foot as rope began to wrap around his wrists, the chain attached to it swinging wildly. He managed to hit the chief in the stomach, but the man continued as if he hadn’t been kicked. Soon, his hands were tied tightly together.

“Get ahold of yourself, Hiccup!” 

He responded by spitting in his face and rolling away from him, smearing blood on the blankets. It hurt terribly, but he didn’t care. If he just kept struggling, maybe it would end soon.

He screamed in pain, frustration, and terror as Dagur grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him onto his back again.

“Are you trying to kill yourself?! Quit struggling!”

“Get the fuck away from me!” Pain laced through Hiccup’s body as he attempted to kick him again. He missed, grunted, and curled in on himself, breathing hard. A sob escaped him. “Get _away._ ”

Dagur left the tent while he was momentarily incapacitated, but came back soon after, stomping over to him in a rage. “I sent a guard to get one of the camp doctors,” he huffed out, sitting down next to him heavily. Hiccup didn’t have the strength to even flinch. “Now hold still and let me clean you up a bit unless you want to be seen with cum all over you.”

“Leave me alone,” Hiccup moaned. He realized that he had lost. He was hurting and tired, and though he was bleeding a lot, it certainly wouldn’t be enough to kill him. But he just wanted Dagur to go away, wished he hadn’t sent for a doctor. He just wanted to lay there and never move again.

Dagur just growled wordlessly and rolled Hiccup onto his back. He groaned, but didn’t fight or make any protests. Soon, the chief was wiping up the mess on his chest, carefully avoiding the spot where he'd ripped the stitches.

He heard him throw the cloth on the ground. “That was stupid, Hiccup. Really frigging stupid.”

Hiccup didn’t want to admit it to himself, but Dagur was right. He had panicked and had let it rule his thoughts and actions. He should have just tried to calm himself instead of causing himself harm.

And not only did he know he did something stupid, he _felt_ stupid. Thrown into the mix with that was shame and guilt. He brought up his arms to cover his face, glad that Dagur let him keep them there.

He could feel the other man begin to calm, could hear his breathing even out. At least that made him feel a little better.

“Hiccup, I’m sorry for getting mad.”

Hiccup lowered his arms from his tear-stained face, raised his eyebrows. He had _not_ been expecting that.

“What?”

“You just freaked me out, okay.” Dagur’s voice sounded sincere, and his eyes seemed that way when he looked at him.

“Uh…” Hiccup had no idea how to respond. Dagur was _apologizing_ to him? 

_Oh Thor, I’m surprised I don’t just drop dead from what an emotional mess I am._

He was caressing his right leg in what seemed to be him trying a comforting gesture. All it did was make Hiccup shiver.

“Promise you won’t do anything like that again.”

“Wha-”

“ _Promise._ ” 

Dagur’s soft gaze suddenly grew intense, almost a glare. He was gripping his leg tight now instead of caressing. 

“I can’t do that,” Hiccup answered truthfully. He knew he’d be in more trouble later if he made a promise that he didn’t mean and went back on it. He wouldn’t be in much trouble now for being honest.

Dagur sighed and looked away from him, began stroking his leg again. “Yeah, didn’t think so.” After a bit he pulled one of the blankets over his lower half. Hiccup was thankful for that, didn’t want anyone else seeing him naked. It would just make matters worse.

It wasn’t long before one of the tent flaps was opened and a young, red-haired woman with a bag slung over her shoulder was ushered inside. He was surprised that she didn’t seem to be cowed by Dagur’s presence. She stood straight and walked over to them calmly. She didn’t scurry or try to make herself smaller like other people did around the chief.

And even _more_ surprising, she gave Dagur a disapproving look! 

“Don’t look at me like that, wench,” Dagur snapped, standing. “He did it to himself. That’s why I had to tie him up.”

She quickly averted her gaze from him, looking at Hiccup instead. “As you say, my lord.” She went and knelt down by the cot to be level with Hiccup’s wound, removing her bag. “What’s your name?”

“Hi-”

“His name’s Hiccup,” Dagur answered curtly before he could, folding his arms over his chest. He had evidently gone through another mood change.

The woman didn’t look at Dagur, just came in close and studied the wound. Hiccup was beginning to feel trapped and uncomfortable again. He didn’t know who this woman was, and she could offer no protection from Dagur. Plus, he was tied up. All in all, none of it left a very good feeling.

“Okay, Hiccup,” she began gently but matter-of-factly. It felt good to have someone addressing him like that. “I’m going to have to take out the stitches first.”

“And what after that?” he asked nervously. He knew he wasn’t going to enjoy any of this.

She met his gaze and gave him a rather apologetic look. “I’m going to have to cauterize it.”

His stomach bottomed out.

“Wh-what? Why?”

“You caused a new tear along with the old one and it’s too messy to stitch up,” she explained. 

“Oh.” That was all he could really say. His mouth had gone dry and terror was an ice-cold ball in his stomach.

“I’m going to have to ask you to cooperate with me.” Her words were still gentle.

“Y-Yeah, of course.” Yes, it would hurt like Hel, but Hiccup would cooperate to the best of his ability. It’s not like she would be purposefully trying to hurt him: only doing her job and trying to help him. It would be better for him in the long run.

Dagur snorted as the woman began looking through her bag. “Cooperative is the last thing he is.”

Despite the situation, Hiccup couldn’t help rolling his eyes. “Dagur, torture and healing are two separate things. I’ll cooperate.”

“I did not-” Dagur cut his yell short and just pursed his lips angrily. He must have realized that now wasn’t a good time to get into an argument. He was most likely going to say that he _hadn’t_ tortured Hiccup.

 _Unbelievable._

“Sir, I do believe you should still hold him down just in case.”

 _Oh my gods,_ why _did she have to say that?_

“No, no! I’ll be fine!” Hiccup yelled in a panic. “Seriously! I’m good! Just start cutting those stitches!”

But Dagur had already moved to the other side of the cot and sat down beside Hiccup. He pulled his bound arms out of the way and over his head with one hand, his other going to rest firmly on his hip. He was grinning at him. Hiccup squeezed his eyes shut. This was going to be bad already, but now it would be even worse with Dagur touching him.

 _Please let me pass out, please let me pass out._ Hiccup couldn’t help but hope for that. Unconsciousness seemed to be the only escape.

“Okay, I’m going to start now. Just take a deep breath.”

Despite his panic, Hiccup did as he was told, inhaling deeply. She started cutting at the stitches on the exhale and he flinched, gave a small cry. She continued without hesitation and he made himself take another deep breath through the pain. It would be better if he stayed calm.

Silent tears tracked their way down his face. At the moment, he didn't feel ashamed for crying. So what if Dagur saw? 

He gasped and unconsciously tried to move away as she kept cutting, but Dagur pressed down harder with his hand, holding him firmly in place. 

“I thought you said you would be fine without me holding you down.” His tone was mocking.

“Yeah, well shut up,” Hiccup spat at him. 

The stitches being pulled out was even worse than them being cut. It felt like his side was on fire. He yelped and moaned, but made himself remain still save for twisting his head. He was determined not to struggle.

The woman paused for a moment, then spoke to him, her voice soothing and gentle. “Hiccup, just breathe, okay? Focus on that.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but couldn't find his voice and so he nodded. 

_Okay. Breathe. That's easy. Just breathe._

Hiccup was given a minute or so to relax himself and focus on filling his lungs with air. He fell into a steady rhythm, no longer paying attention to his surroundings.

He didn't move or make a sound as the woman continued her work, just made himself keep breathing in and out at a slow pace. It was turning out to be incredibly helpful.

Hiccup was relieved when she was done with that, but then his anxiety returned when he remembered that the worst wasn't over. He heard her rifle through her bag and then stand. She was no doubt going to heat a knife in the lit brazier that was crackling quietly a couple of feet away. His muscles seized up. He remembered all too well the last time heated metal had been placed on his skin. The brand on his chest seemed to hurt more at the memory. A tiny, frightened whimper left him, and he kept his eyes closed.

He flinched as he felt Dagur lean over him, and then his lips brushed the side of his face. 

“You're doing good, Hiccup,” he said quietly, voice taking on a tone that would have been comforting had it been coming from someone else. “You’ll be fine. You’ve dealt with worse. You can handle it.”

“Dagur, you're really not helping,” Hiccup hissed out. 

His lips moved to his ear. “What would help?”

“Shutting up for more than five seconds. Oh, and maybe stabbing a knife through your eye. Yeah, that would be great.”

Dagur's hold on his wrists tightened to the point of leaving bruises and he leaned away from him. 

“Hiccup, if you weren't already hurting I’d punch you.”

He opened his eyes to flash him a defiant smirk. “Sweet. Mission accomplished.”

Dagur sneered at him and growled wordlessly, and Hiccup felt a bit of pride. Sometimes it was fulfilling to get on his nerves.

He turned his head as the woman came back over, resuming her position of kneeling beside the cot. Hiccup blanched at the sight of the knife in her hand, now glowing orange. Dagur adjusted his position on him so that his arm was now over his body, hand curling into the leg opposite him to better hold him in place. Hiccup turned his head away and closed his eyes again.

“Hiccup, brace yourself.”

That was all the warning he got. He drew in a breath and then he was burning. He screamed, tried with all his might to turn away from it, struggled to get his arms out of Dagur's grip. He thrashed to the best of his ability, shrieked, kicked his legs, but none of it made the pain stop or lessen. 

Hiccup became lost to the sensation of it. Seconds could have passed, or minutes or hours. All he knew throughout that time was that it hurt and he wanted it to stop.

Finally, the knife was pulled away and he was left heaving in huge breaths. To his utmost relief, Dagur let go of him.

He was allowed to rest for a few minutes before the woman had him sit up in order for her to bandage the wound. It wasn't an easy feat and Hiccup swayed when he was up straight. He found himself leaning on Dagur, his body actually serving as a comfort for once. 

Once the wound was bandaged, the woman left, but for some reason Dagur still had him sit up. Perhaps she was coming back.

Exhausted, Hiccup let himself slump into his arms. He really didn't have a choice about it at the moment. He didn't even react when the chief placed a kiss to the top of his head.

He dozed - probably - before the woman returned. Something was pressed to his lips and she was telling him to drink, so he did. The liquid tasted awful, but he swallowed it all down without hesitation. It was no doubt something to help with the pain. Then that was pulled away and he was made to drink water, which he took gratefully and maybe a little too fast.

Once he finished, Dagur, or whoever the Hel was holding him, (he was much too tired to pay attention and there had probably been some sort of drug in what he’d drank,) carefully laid him down on the cot. Blankets and furs were pulled over him and he mumbled a little in appreciation. The last thing he felt was lips on his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering, yes, I really do enjoy torturing Hiccup. My username _is_ evilwriter37. Plus, I have some friends that call me Hell.
> 
> But I also do really love Hiccup. He's one of my favorite characters of all time... Which might be why he's so fun to hurt...


	28. Chapter 27

Hiccup was alone when he woke. He didn’t open his eyes, but he could sense it. His exhale of relief instead turned into a tired groan. He hurt bad, the now-cauterized slash in his side burning. 

It took him a while to take stock of everything, as the drugs were still in his system. He found that he had been untied, and his robe had been put back on him. He was laying on his right side with his back to the entrance of the tent.

He snuggled himself into the blankets a little more. No harm in going back to sleep.

He didn’t fall completely into sleep, but that didn’t stop the nightmares from coming, and they were almost all about the same person, the same thing: Dagur. He would half wake from one, heart pounding, just to doze off again and fall into another.

There was one where all his friends were standing around him and he was naked. They gawked at the brand with looks of disgust. Then his dad was there, looking down at him with the most disapproving look he’d ever seen. He spoke, words from a memory, words that he’d only ever spoken once:

_“You’re not a Viking. You’re not my son.”_

Hiccup woke, gasping for breath, a wetness on his cheeks; tears. Shame burned a hole through his stomach. 

_What’s the point of escaping if no one is going to want me?_ Dagur had said that no one would want him anymore, save for him, and he had to be right. Why would Stoick want a son that’d been used and marked by another man?

A sob clogged up his throat, but he swallowed and held it back. He hurt too much to let himself cry. That would just make his ribs worse.

“Hiccup, are you awake?”

He started at the sound of Bryn’s voice from the entrance of the tent. He looked over his shoulder, found her standing with a tray.

“I brought you lunch.” She went and set the tray on the table. “I tried bringing you breakfast but you were out cold.”

“Th-thank you.” He gritted his teeth and forced himself into a sitting position. That made him dizzy, and he swayed for a moment, put a hand to his head. He didn’t feel right, like there was cotton stuffed into his skull. It was making it hard to think.

 _Must be whatever that doctor gave me,_ he reasoned.

“Hiccup, are you alright?”

“Hm?” He looked up at Bryn. Her brow was furrowed in concern. “Y-yeah. I’m okay.” He glanced at the table, at the food that seemed so far away. He knew he couldn’t make it over there, even with help. “Could you actually bring that over?” he asked. Then he remembered that there were still tears on his face, and when Bryn had her back turned to him, he wiped them with his sleeves.

She carefully placed the tray down on his lap. He began to eat, slowly, as she pulled over one of the chairs and sat down near him.

“You don’t look so good,” she observed, watching his shaking hands as he cut into the meat. “What happened?”

“Had to have something cauterized,” he answered, not sure why the words came out of his mouth. He didn’t want to tell her anything about his experience, but he felt compelled to talk. “Doctor gave me something.”

“Wait, you’re hurt?”

Hiccup gave a small nod, pulled back his robe a little to show her the bandages. “Dagur sliced me up pretty good the other day.”

“Why?”

“I wasn’t being very cooperative,” he answered, surprised at his honestly. Was it the drugs making him talk? “He got mad.”

“He’s always mad,” Bryn commented. 

“Nah, not always,” Hiccup told her. “His moods change really fast though.”

“Then you should be careful with what you do around him,” she said.

“I don’t know. I’d prefer him hurting me over…” He stopped himself, realizing what he’d been about to say. He couldn’t tell Bryn what was actually going on. No doubt she was confused by it.

“Over what?” she prompted.

“Nothing,” Hiccup quickly answered. He shoved food in his mouth so that he couldn’t talk, decided to focus on eating.

“Is it okay if I ask you something?” Bryn questioned after some time in silence.

Hiccup was a little confused due to the fuzziness in his head. “You just did.”

Bryn rolled her eyes. “You know what I meant.”

“Uh, go ahead?”

Bryn worked her jaw, looking uncomfortable. Hiccup just waited, wondering what she was going to ask him.

“Why are you in the chief’s bed?” she finally asked.

Hiccup very suddenly lost his appetite. He pushed the tray away from him. His mouth opened to say something without his consent and he snapped it shut.

“Hiccup?”

“Thank you for lunch and the company,” Hiccup said curtly, “but I think you should go.”

“Oh, okay.” Bryn looked slightly crestfallen. She stood, moving the chair back to the table before picking up the tray. “See you later then, I guess.”

Hiccup didn’t look at her, didn’t have it in him to meet her eyes. “Yeah, later.”

She left, and now the only company he had was his own misery and despair. He laid down on his back, looked up at the roof of the tent. He hadn’t been outside in days, and he wished he was seeing the sky, laying on a bed of grass in a patch of sunlight. A tear rolled down one cheek.

_I just want to get out._

His friends and his father wouldn’t accept him when he returned, but Toothless would. He always would. He’d take his dragon and disappear, find a secluded place to live where it would just be the two of them.

His chest ached. Gods, he missed Toothless, missed waking up to him every morning, missed his big, intelligent green eyes, missed the sounds he made, missed the feeling of his scales under his hands. Most of all, he missed flying with him, being up in the air with the earth far below. He’d always felt free while flying, not bound to the land or sea he flew over. Now, he was stuck. The metal cuff on his ankle almost seemed to get heavier as a reminder.

Hiccup shut his eyes and covered his face with his hands. He just didn’t know what to do. He’d never felt so lost and hopeless before. He couldn’t imagine the rest of his life being like this. The idea of killing himself briefly entered his mind.

He sighed heavily, hopelessly, and rolled onto his side, wanting nothing more than to go to sleep and never wake up.

 

Stoick looked through the spyglass at the island down below them. He could make out smoke from campfires and the figures of tents and people through the trees. Over a dozen longships were moored on the beach. There were catapults and ballista situated near the edge of the forest.

 _That’s got to be where he is._ Stoick smiled, felt hope surge up in his chest. He lowered the spyglass, then turned Skullcrusher around so that he was facing the other Dragon Riders. 

“They haven’t spotted us because of these clouds, but if we don’t move soon, they will,” Stoick stated. He was thankful for the dark sky and mass of gray clouds. It was cold and the clouds would probably drop snow when they released. “There are catapults and ballista at the edge of the forest. We take those out, then land and head for the trees, fight on foot.”

“Why don’t we just blast the whole camp?” Spitelout asked abrasively.

Stoick narrowed his eyes at him. “Because my son might be in there somewhere and one of you dunderheads might accidentally hit him, or burn the whole place to the ground.”

Spitelout just tightened his jaw and gave a small nod.

“And if any of you find Dagur, capture him and bring him to me. I want to deal with him myself.” He felt his anger surge up, and right now, that was just fine. He had something to direct it at.

He drew his axe as he turned back to face the island.

“Let’s go get my son.”

 

Hiccup was roughly shoved onto his knees, and he hurriedly shut his eyes. He really didn’t need to see Dagur’s cock.

One of Dagur’s hands stroked him under the chin before gripping his jaw. “You gonna be a good boy and open up?”

He would have hit him save for the fact that his hands were bound behind him, and with the sash from his robe no less, the article of clothing left wide open to bare the front of his body. Instead, he just tried pulling his head back.

“Want me to suffocate you again?” Dagur asked. “Because I can do that.”

Hiccup tightened his lips, heart thumping and mind racing. Then, he did something that every fiber of his being was telling him not to: he opened his mouth.

“That a boy,” Dagur praised, moving his hand to take ahold of the back of his head. That was all the warning Hiccup got before his cock was shoved into his mouth. He gave a muffled cry, then choked when it touched the back of his throat.

Dagur began slowly moving his hips, now holding Hiccup’s head in place with two hands. He squirmed, tried pulling his hands free. The chief hadn’t made him take his length all the way in yet, but he would soon.

Dagur moaned. “ _Oh, Hiccup!_ Ah, shit, your mouth is so good!” He shoved his hips forward and Hiccup choked as his cock went down his throat. He just held him there, and he could feel his eyes on him. “You look so hot with my cock in your mouth.” His fingers carded through his hair. “Right where you’re supposed to be. Kneeling in front of me.”

Tears stung at the corners of Hiccup’s eyes. He wanted to protest, to shout at him, but he could do nothing except try to relax his throat.

He began thrusting into him again, much harder than before. He gagged and struggled, wondering if it was possible for throats to be bruised. He was losing his breath and he had to keep reminding himself to breathe through his nose, but it was much easier said than done.

It felt like forever before Dagur pulled away from him. Hiccup took in a huge gulp of air. His relief was short lived though, as he was suddenly grabbed by the hair and yanked up onto his one foot. He gave a pained cry, opened his eyes to give Dagur a glare.

“Mm, your glares are so sexy.” Dagur practically purred out the words, leaning his head forward as he did so. His lips touched his own and Hiccup whimpered in his aching throat.

Then Dagur’s hands were suddenly under his thighs, scooping him up off the ground. He yelped in surprise and the man just gave him a terrifying smile. 

He was slammed onto his back on the table, which hurt his wrists and hands that were now trapped beneath him. Dagur pulled his legs apart, stuck himself between them so he couldn’t close them.

“Dagur, get off of me.” His voice didn’t sound as commanding as he had meant it to be. It was more of a croak really, a result of fear and the pounding he’d taken.

Dagur was trailing one hand up his body, the other grasping his thigh. His chest heaved, and he turned his head aside. He didn’t need to see what was happening to him.

He felt the chief bend over him. He released his breath in a cry as a tongue suddenly lapped at his right nipple. Dagur teased it to hardness this way, then moved his head and began doing the same to the other. Hiccup moaned underneath him. Unwanted arousal was beginning to burn through him and his cock was becoming erect.

Once both his nipples were hardened and perked up, Dagur moved lower. Much lower. He seemed to want to give his abdomen attention with his mouth but he couldn’t because of the bandages, so he’d skipped right to his cock. Hiccup bit his lip to hold in a pleased sigh as Dagur’s tongue ran along the underside of it. Though, he couldn’t hold in a groan as he licked at him again and then took the head into his mouth. The heat and the wetness just felt so good.

“Dagur, stop,” he said breathlessly. It didn’t matter how good he felt. He didn’t want to be touched like this.

He pulled his mouth off of him. “What, you mean you don’t like this?” He licked at him again, and Hiccup clenched his jaw over a moan, then shook his head.

“Really? I think you’re a liar, Hiccup.”

“No, no, stop! Just stop it! Stop talking! Stop all of it!” Tears ran down his face. 

His body wanted to give in to Dagur so badly, and it was harder to fight with him insisting that he liked it. He just wanted him to shut up and leave him alone.

“I’ll be too busy to talk anyway.”

He jerked and cried out as Dagur bit the inside of his right thigh, sucked the skin into his mouth. The bit of pain there somehow heightened his arousal. He sucked marks into the insides of both thighs, holding Hiccup still with two hands on his legs. Then his mouth came back up, touching him somewhere that he definitely hadn’t expected. 

He gasped in surprise. “Dagur, what are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he responded, sounding slightly annoyed. “I’m eating you out.” His lips went back to his rim.

_Okay, this is… odd._

Hiccup moaned and gasped as Dagur’s mouth moved against him, beard scratching at his skin. Then his tongue was pushing past the ring of muscle, delving inside of him. He didn’t understand how this even felt good, felt betrayed by his own body.

“Dagur, st-stop. Please.”

In response, the man worked harder at him. Hiccup’s hips moved into it before he could tell them to stop. Dagur released one of his legs, and then he had a finger in him along with his tongue. Hiccup tossed his head, whined desperately in his throat. 

Dagur was being surprisingly gentle as he used his mouth and his fingers to open him up. It was slow and sweet instead of quick and painful. Hiccup didn’t know which he preferred. On the one hand, it was a relief to not feel any pain, but on the other, it was Dagur pleasuring him like this, and he certainly hadn’t asked him to. His body wouldn’t be such a traitor if he hurt instead.

Once he deemed the task complete, Dagur stood. He stroked his hands over Hiccup’s hips, looking at him with a lustful gleam in his eyes.

“Please don’t.” Hiccup’s voice was nearly a whimper. He felt scared meeting his gaze like this, with him standing there shirtless between his legs. He was completely exposed and unprotected, his robe useless, the front wide open.

Dagur let go of one of his hips, reached his hand lower, and Hiccup tilted his head back, looking at the roof of the tent, blinking back tears. He tensed when he felt the tip of Dagur’s cock press insistently against his hole, demanding entry whether it was granted or not. Hiccup arched and gasped as Dagur slid all the way into him, and the other man moaned, grabbed onto his hip again. Then he began.

 

Stoick watched Berserkers scatter before him as he charged forward on Skullcrusher. The Rumblehorn let loose a terrifying roar, then lowered his head, ramming into an unfortunate soldier that hadn’t gotten out of the way in time. He was flung into the air, and when he landed on his back he didn’t get up.

Most of the catapults and ballista had been disabled, either burning or crushed to bits. The other Dragon Riders were fighting around him, and the struggle created a din of shouts and clashes of metal.

“Chief!” Snotlout’s voice had him whirling around in his saddle, fearing something was wrong, but the boy seemed to be doing just fine. He blasted someone with Hookfang before addressing him again. “We got this! Go find Hiccup!”

Stoick gave a curt nod of his head. He raised his axe with a war cry, and he and Skullcrusher charged into the forest.

It was much quieter in the cover of the trees, all of the fighting happening on the beach. Most of the soldiers had been drawn out and away from the main camp. Still, there were bound to be a few hiding somewhere.

With his free hand, Stoick reached into his saddlebag, drawing out one of Hiccup’s tunics. He held it out to Skullcrusher.

“Do you smell him anywhere?”

The dragon sniffed over the clothing vigorously, then turned his head this way and that, searching for a scent. It wasn’t long before he picked a direction and was bounding through the trees.

 

Ruffnut ducked her head, an arrow whizzing over. The Berserkers didn’t have Dragon Root, so they were aiming for the Riders more than the dragons.

“That was a close one!”

“Yeah, I know,” Tuffnut commented from beside her. He had Belch spark the gas that Barf had spewed, and fire exploded out in front of them, trapping a few hapless soldiers in it. “Too bad it didn’t hit you. That would have been fun- _argh!_ ”

Ruff whipped her head around at her brother’s pained scream, caught a glimpse of a wooden shaft protruding from his right shoulder before he slid off the dragon and collapsed to the ground. Her eyes went big and she searched around frantically for the closest Dragon Rider.

“Snotlout!” she called, her voice raised an octave in terror. Her right shoulder twinged and her stomach clenched. The other Rider, at least a dozen feet away, didn’t seem to have heard her.

“ _Snotlout!_ ” she shrieked. Luckily, that got his attention, and he turned to look at her. “Tuff’s down! Cover me!” 

There was a look of worry that crossed over his face, then he gave a quick nod. He backed up Hookfang towards them, standing in front protectively.

Satisfied with that, Ruffnut hopped off of Barf. She landed hard, used the momentum to get her over to Tuffnut faster. He was on his back in the sand, just staring at the arrow in his shoulder with a stunned expression, face gone white.

“Hey, Ruff,” he croaked out, giving her a glance. He weakly pointed at the arrow with his other hand. “Did you see this?” Then he went limp, eyes rolling back into his head.

“No, Tuffnut!” Ruff threw herself down beside him, trying to quell her panic. Tears were building in her eyes and her breathing had accelerated. This was her _brother._ Her _twin brother._

“Okay, Ruff, pull yourself together.” She practically shouted it at herself. Panicking wouldn’t solve anything. She wiped at her face, at the tears now streaming down.

“Okay, okay, check where he was hit,” she said quickly, knowing she had to talk herself through this. “Make sure it’s in a place that w-won’t kill him.” 

She directed her attention to his right shoulder. The arrow had impaled him near the crook of his arm and blood was trickling out from around the wound. It wouldn’t kill him, but that realization did nothing to stop the sudden nausea that churned her stomach.

“D-don’t remove the arrow,” she told herself, taking ahold of the shaft with two hands. “Th-that’s what’s keeping h-him from bleeding bad. J-just break this off…” She snapped the shaft close to his shoulder, tossed it aside. Then she realized that she didn’t know what to do next. She just sat staring at her brother passed out in the sand, tears blurring her vision.

“Snotlout, I don’t know what to do!” she cried.

“Start heading back to Dragon’s Edge!” he called over his shoulder.

“ _What?!_ I’m not leaving you guys!”

At that, Snotlout suddenly hopped off of Hookfang, commanded his dragon to keep on fighting and blasting away, and ran towards her, his feet kicking sand into the air. He grabbed Ruffnut by the shoulders.

“Look, you have to. We’ll be okay. Just go.”

Ruffnut glanced at Tuffnut, then back at Snotlout. She sniffled and nodded her head, trying to keep herself from all-out sobbing. She could handle injuries just fine, as long as they didn’t happen to Tuffnut.

“Good. Let me help you get him on.”

Together, Ruffnut and Snotlout lifted Tuffnut, slid him carefully into the front of Barf’s saddle. Ruffnut climbed on, wrapped her arms tightly around Tuff’s middle to hold him against her. Belch was looking at them with worry.

“You better be able to fly on your own!” Ruff yelled to the Zippleback’s other head. Then she gave Snotlout a quick nod and they took off.

 

Dagur studied Hiccup intently as he thrusted into him. His lips were parted and there was a blank expression on his face, a distant look in his eyes as if he wasn’t fully there.

With a determined grunt, he picked up the pace. There was no way he was letting Hiccup zone out during this.

His Dragon Rider gave a sudden cry, back curving off the table a little, eyes flitting to meet his. That was _much_ better.

Dagur groaned at the pleasure burning through him, and just the knowledge that he was _inside_ of _Hiccup_ heightened the sensations. His ass was so perfect: tight and warm and soft, slick from the attention he’d given it with his mouth.

Hiccup narrowed his eyes in a glare. It was unbelievable how hot he looked like that, trapped beneath him with that look on his face. It made Dagur want to fuck him, except he was already doing that.

“Shit, Hiccup, I don’t think you realize how attractive you are,” he said breathlessly.

Hiccup looked as if he was about to say something, but then with Dagur’s next thrust he had his head thrown back, a cry escaping his wonderful mouth. Pleased with this, realizing he’d hit his prostate, Dagur moved his hands underneath him and lifted him towards him, changing the angle to hopefully give the both of them better stimulation.

Hiccup arched and writhed, moaned loudly, clutched at him with his thighs. The movements drove Dagur absolutely insane with lust and he shouted out his name. He longed to have part of him in his mouth, and he leaned over, caught his sensitive left nipple between his lips. He was rewarded with a pleased cry, and he moaned in ecstasy around his flesh.

He alternated between kissing his lover’s chest and chanting his name. He felt so complete when he was buried inside him like this, like he’d been missing something his entire life and he was made whole. 

Dagur gasped out something he’d never said before, the words uttered close to Hiccup’s precious skin:

“Hiccup, I love you.”

 

Stoick slashed out with his axe, filled with a rage like never before. Blood sprayed and the man he’d attacked didn’t have time to scream, head flying off and landing a few feet away. The body crashed to the ground and the chief stepped uncaringly over it, attention now on his next target. He was fighting multiple soldiers at once, but they didn’t stand a chance against him, not when he was this close to finding Hiccup.

There were shouts and screams, and he thought he took a sword to the arm, but he couldn’t be sure. He was too focused on getting to the large tent that these men had been protecting. That had to be it, had to be where his son was.

All he saw was red. Dagur had taken his son from him, had hurt him. He was going to castrate him, then chop his limbs off, before finally removing his head. No one hurt Hiccup and got away with it!

He felled the last man, then leapt over his body and sprinted towards the tent.

“Hiccup!” Stoick felt a mix of joy and fury all at once. He threw aside the flaps and ran inside.

It was empty.

Stoick lowered his axe, panting, looking around. His hope caved in, creating a sucking pit of despair in his stomach. The tent was _empty._

_But Skullcrusher smelled him. He has to be here!_

“Hiccup?” he called, though he knew it was pointless. He stepped farther into the dark tent, tripped on something, nearly fell. He bent and picked up whatever it was, hand falling on fabric and leather. He brought it up to take a closer look.

They were clothes. They were _Hiccup’s_ clothes.

With a heartbroken bellow, Stoick crashed to his knees, dropping his axe beside him. He cried then, cried like he never had before in his life. He’d come here expecting to find Hiccup, expecting to kill the man that was abusing his son, but all he’d found was a tent with nothing but Hiccup’s clothes inside of it, further proof of what was being done to him. All this had been for _nothing._

Stoick had always known that Dagur was cruel, but this was a level of it that he’d never expected: giving him hope, luring him here, when really, Hiccup was somewhere else.

He pressed the red tunic to his face, breathing in the scent. It wasn’t even fully Hiccup’s. It’d been masked by another.

With a roar, Stoick hefted the clothes across the tent. He stood, took ahold of his axe, then left.


	29. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short, but very emotion-heavy chapter.

Hiccup didn’t know how to respond. He was being overwhelmed by intense, unwanted physical sensation, but Dagur’s words still reached his ears, still registered somewhere in his brain.

He’d said he _loved_ him. _Dagur the Deranged_ had said he _loved_ him.

Fresh tears pricked at his eyes, tears of anger now. Dagur didn’t _love_ him. Dagur didn’t know what love even was. How could he even say such a thing?!

“You don’t – love me,” Hiccup gasped out. He made himself look down at him, steeling himself to meet his gaze.

Dagur lifted his head from his chest as he slowed his movements. There was a strange, almost enraptured look in his eyes and a small, open-mouthed smile on his lips. Hiccup found it to be the most unsettling expression he’d ever seen on him.

“But I do, Hiccup.” His voice was soft. “I do.”

Hiccup looked away from him as he moaned, hips unconsciously moving into their connection. It was a sweet, agonizing kind of pleasure that started him trembling.

“Y-you don’t. You don’t e-even know what love _is_.” He shut his eyes, felt Dagur’s breath against his face.

“No, no, look at me.” He was still speaking gently, and Hiccup was surprised he wasn’t upset with him yet. Though, he would be if he didn’t open his eyes, so he did as he was told. 

Dagur was bent over him, nose almost touching his. Hiccup’s face flushed red when he couldn’t hold in his moans. Meeting Dagur’s eyes made this so much worse. It was like they could see into each other. Hiccup could see his infatuation with him, how it dominated his mind and turned to obsession. He could see the satisfaction at finally having him like this, the bliss that it created.

He could only guess what Dagur saw in his. Vulnerability, probably; fear, hopelessness, but still a spark of defiance and anger. He _couldn’t_ give in to this man.

Dagur began to speak, enunciating each word separately and clearly, which just put more emphasis on the statement as a whole.

“I. Love. You.”

Hiccup was going to say something, shake his head, but then Dagur’s lips were on his and his tongue was in his mouth. His tears fell faster when he kissed him, and he half-moaned/half-sobbed into the other man’s mouth. He struggled a little, but it did nothing but cause a flare of pain in his side. He was trapped.

Hiccup did something that he was very much unaccustomed to: he gave up. He relaxed his muscles as much as he could, deciding to let Dagur do whatever he wanted with him. There was no way out of it, so he might as well make it easier to endure.

Dagur pulled away from his mouth, but only to bite at his jaw. He groaned against him, increasing his pace a little. Hiccup’s body decided that that felt excellent. Not a single bit of it felt bad, and especially not when he was consistently rubbing against his prostate. His last coherent thought before he let his mind dissolve into nothing but urges and sensation was that he hoped this would be over soon.

 

Snotlout looked around the beach. They seemed to have taken care of most of the Berserkers. Many had fled once they realized that there was no possible way that they could win this. Fires crackled and smoke billowed into the cold air, turning the snow that had begun to fall to a light gray. Bodies littered the beach, most of them still and quiet, but some moaning out their last breaths.

He caught a glimpse of movement through the trees, and, still on alert, hopped from Hookfang and drew his sword. The dragon was out of fire.

He relaxed his stance when he realized that it was Stoick, Skullcrusher, walking along behind him. He felt a sense of hope and excitement, but then he realized something was wrong.

His chief strode heavily, but purposefully, out of the trees. He was covered in blood from head to toe, red-stained face hard and unreadable, equally blood-soaked axe clutched tightly in his hand. There was no sign of Hiccup.

Snotlout’s face fell and it felt like something inside of him had been crushed. No Hiccup. This had been for nothing.

“Stoick!” The call was from Spitelout, who was bounding over, dragon behind him. The chief didn’t seem to hear him. He kept walking, but not in their direction – towards one of the dying men in the sand.

_What’s he doing?_

“Where’s my son?!” It felt like Stoick’s roar shattered something in the air. Snotlout could do nothing but watch. He could feel the others gathering around him, watching as well. His dad stopped beside him.

He saw the Berserker take in a breath, say something. He couldn’t hear his response, but Stoick must not have liked it, because his features contorted in anger.

“Where is he?!” he shouted. “Where’s Hiccup?!”

“I-I don’t know!” the man cried out. He raised his hands to shield himself, but that did nothing as Stoick’s axe came down. Blood sprayed and then his head rolled away.

Snotlout gaped. He’d never seen his chief like this before. Sure, Stoick could get loud and angry, but never so violent, never to the point of beheading an already dying man.

Stoick hefted his axe, then began walking over to another one of the Berserkers on the ground. Snotlout felt frozen to the spot, hopelessness and defeat crushing in around him. None of them moved.

But then his father did, rushing over to Stoick before he could reach his next victim. He grabbed his right arm, and the chief snapped his head towards him.

“Stoick, there’s no point,” Spitelout said. He took ahold of the axe with his other hand.

“He’s not here.” Stoick suddenly lost all of his ferocity with those words, his voice broken. He released his grip, letting Spitelout have the axe. He sank to his knees, and it was like watching a mountain crumble. “He’s not here.”


	30. Chapter 29

The flight to Dragon’s Edge seemed to go on and on. All Ruffnut saw in either direction was clouds and snow. Below her the ocean was a roiling, white-capped beast. She was almost afraid that she was going the wrong way. She quelled that anxious thought though; she hadn’t changed direction at all while flying, and Barf and Belch had a good sense of direction. They’d make it.

Her arms had grown tired from holding Tuffnut. He was dead weight against her, his head lolling back to rest on her shoulder. She had her jaw tightly clenched against the pain she was feeling, both emotionally and physically. She’d stopped crying and her panic had died into worry, but it still twisted her stomach. Physically, her right shoulder ached. _She_ hadn’t been the one shot with an arrow, but she and Tuffnut could often feel each other’s injuries if they were serious, and this injury definitely was. She tried to shake it off because it wasn’t _her_ pain – it was his. She hoped he wasn’t feeling it in unconsciousness.

Ruffnut wondered how it was going back at the Iron Isle, if the fight was finished and if they’d found Hiccup. She desperately hoped that they did, hoped that nobody else had been hurt… Or worse.

It was hard to hold onto hope at the moment though, when her brother was unconscious in her arms and she was flying through cold and snow with no land in sight. It left a strange sense that she, Tuffnut, and their dragon were the only living things in the world, that everything else was dead and gone. A shiver crawled up her spine.  
Time passed. She was aching and cold with flecks of snow in her hair. Her arms felt stuck in their position around Tuffnut, probably having gone stiff. 

Things began to emerge from the gloom around her: one ship, another, a whole fleet docked; cliffs and walls and watchtowers, the stables, the clubhouse. She’d made it!

Ruffnut landed at the clubhouse, hoping that somebody would be there, maybe even Gothi. She was an honorary part of the auxiliary riders, but there was no way she was going into battle. Her role in the tribe was too important.

 _Okay, so how am I going to get off the dragon?_ She looked down at Tuffnut. His face was an awful shade of white and his mouth hung open a little. He hadn’t stirred at all throughout the flight and she didn’t think he would anytime soon.

“Ruffnut?”

_Gobber!_

She looked towards the voice, almost started crying again in a mixture of distress and relief when she saw the blacksmith limping his way over to her. 

“Gobber! Oh, thank Loki! Tuffnut got hit by an arrow.” She began talking very quickly. “But I didn’t pull it out because I knew it was stopping the bleeding, and I had to leave everyone, and I flew forever and thought I got lost, and I’m cold, and-”

“Take a deep breath, lass,” Gobber interrupted. 

Ruffnut drew in a shuddering breath, realized that she’d started crying again while she’d been rambling.

Gobber held out his arms. “Let me take him. We can get him to your house and then I’ll go get Gothi.”

“O-okay.” She let Gobber take Tuffnut from her arms. It was hard to let go of him, as she was feeling very protective. She realized how much her arms hurt when her burden was gone, now being held gently in Gobber’s arms. Her elbows, wrists, and fingers were stiff and sore. She climbed off of Barf, flexing her arms and fingers to try to make the stiffness go away.

Ruffnut’s knees shook as she walked behind Gobber, the rest of her weak and trembling as well. She felt like she could lie down and sleep forever, but at the same time she knew that if she tried she wouldn’t sleep at all. Anxiety was running through her like a wildfire. She hoped that something good would come out of this day, that Tuffnut hadn’t taken an arrow for nothing. She prayed to all the gods in Asgard that they would have a victory.

 

Heather ran happily out of the castle. She hadn’t felt this good in a long time. The council had agreed to help! She had to tell Astrid.

Panting, she came to the open courtyard in the back where Astrid had told her she’d be training with the royal guard. She would be finished soon, but Heather couldn’t wait to tell her. She had a semblance of hope again.

“Astrid!” she called when she spotted her. She was sitting atop Stormfly, performing some training exercise with the royal guard. Everyone looked towards her as she came running.

“Heather, is something wrong?” Astrid asked urgently, hopping off of Stormfly, closing the last of the space between them.

“No, it’s great!” she gasped out, beaming. She took ahold of Astrid’s arms. “The council agreed to aid Berk!”

A smile lighted Astrid’s face, a rare occurrence these days. “That’s fantastic!” She suddenly hugged Heather hard. “I’m so glad they listened to you.”

Heather hugged her back, feeling a little awkward since there were other people around. She and Astrid hadn’t tried to keep their relationship a secret, and as far as she knew no one disapproved of it, but she felt strange openly showing such affection with strangers around.

Astrid pulled away, placed her hands on Heather’s shoulders. “You have to send Terror Mail to Dragon’s Edge.”

“Terror Mail?” one of the guards, a woman, questioned.

“Yeah,” Heather answered, turning to face the guard. “We use Terrible Terrors to send messages. It’s a _lot_ faster than having people sail back and forth.”

“That’s incredible!” another guard commented.

“Now I just have to go find one,” Heather said. 

“Chief, I can do it for you,” the woman who had spoken first volunteered, stepping forward.

Heather held out her hands. “No, it’s okay. I’ll do it.” She could really use the time alone. It’d be nice – just her and Windshear out in the forest together. She was in desperate need of a break from human interaction.

“Well, I’ll see you at dinner then.” Astrid came and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. Heather blushed a little, then left to go retrieve her dragon. She definitely needed time alone to think and recollect herself.

 

“Bro, _please_ hold still! You're making it worse!” Ruffnut was struggling to hold Tuffnut’s arms down. It was just their luck that he’d wake right before Gothi was going to remove the arrow. He hadn’t stirred at all when his vest was taken off and his tunic had been cut off of him, but he’d roused when the tourniquet was being tied and began to panic. Frustrated, she climbed up on the bed and sat on his legs, which gave her better leverage with his arms.

“But it hurts!” he complained. “ _Please_ get off of me!”

“Tuff, you’re going to make it hurt even _more_ if you don’t stop moving,” Ruffnut said, hoping she could talk some reason into him. It was very hard to keep her emotions under control at the moment. “Just look at me, okay?”

Tuffnut opened his eyes to look at her. They were scared and teary, filled with pain. It made Ruffnut’s chest hurt. Neither of them had had to deal with an injury like this before.

“Okay, Gothi, do your thing,” Ruff said to the small woman beside the bed. She’d been waiting for Tuffnut to calm down so as not to cause more damage when she removed the arrow.

“Take a deep breath, Tuffnut.” Gobber was on the other side of the bed. He’d refused to leave after retrieving Gothi, and Ruffnut was glad to have him there. His presence was calming for her.

Ruffnut focused all her attention on Tuffnut’s face as Gothi took ahold of the little bit of the shaft that was protruding from his shoulder. The twins locked gazes, Ruffnut trying to instill as much strength into her brother as she could.

The arrow was yanked out and Tuffnut jolted and screamed. Ruffnut winced at the sound, and at the twinge of pain she felt in her own shoulder from it.

Tuff relaxed a little as Gothi began applying pressure to the wound to stop the bleeding. At least the tourniquet was helping quell the flow of it.

“Hey, where’s Chicken?” he asked weakly, looking around the hut. Ruff smiled a little. Of course the first thing on his mind was his pet.

“I put her outside for now,” Gobber answered. “She’d be jumping all over you if she were in here. We wouldn’t get anything done!”

“But I can see her after, right?”

Ruffnut shook her head a little in affection. “Yes, Tuff, you can see her after.”

“Awesome. Poor thing’s probably all worried. She knew something big was going on. Didn’t even finish her breakfast. _Ow!_ ” Gothi had begun stitching the wound. Tuffnut struggled a little, but his movements were weak. He turned his head to the side and groaned.

“Hang in there, Tuffnut,” Gobber said, patting him on his left shoulder. “Gothi works fast. It should be over soon.”

“Good, ’cause i-it really – _argh!_ – hurts!”

Ruffnut swallowed the ache in her throat. She couldn’t stand seeing her brother in pain like this. Her right shoulder stung, but she knew she was feeling only a fraction of the pain that he was. It just made her feel awful.

Gobber was right – Gothi did work fast – and after a few minutes Tuffnut’s wound was stitched and bandaged, and he was sitting with his arm in a sling. Then she and Gobber both went outside, Gobber having said something about having to talk with her. Ruffnut hoped that whatever news he brought back in would be good.

They were silent for a bit after the two left, but then Tuffnut spoke up.

“Hey, when do you think everyone else will be back?” His tone was serious, concerned, not one that Ruff often heard from him.

“I don’t know,” she responded. “It was snowing a little last I knew. If it got worse, they’ll probably have to camp out there.”

“That sucks.” He looked down and picked at the fabric of his pants. “So… do you think they found Hiccup?”

“I sure as Hel hope so.” Ruff didn’t want to think about the possibility that they _hadn’t_ found Hiccup. The island had certainly seemed like the right place. He _had_ to have been there.

Tuffnut sighed heavily, then looked at his shoulder. “Getting shot with an arrow isn’t as fun as I’d thought it would be,” he said in dead seriousness. 

Ruffnut laughed a little. “Bro, you’re so weird.”

“Hey, at least I don’t put fish oil in my hair!” he retorted, a spark of amusement in his eyes.

“You know, I think it keeps my hair looking nice,” Ruff commented, planting her fists on her hips. “Better than yours, anyway.”

“Oh yeah? Well how nice would your hair look if I chopped it all off!” He playfully grabbed at her hair with his free hand. To everyone else these kinds of interactions looked like fighting, but mostly they were just playing around.

“I’ll chop yours off first!”

“Not if I get to it before you! Can’t cut my hair if there’s nothing to cut! Ha!”

“You’d look even uglier bald!”

“So would you!”

“Haven’t you two had your fill of fighting today?” Gobber asked, interrupting their bantering. Ruff had gotten so into it that she hadn’t heard him come back in.

Her brother let go of her and shrugged his good shoulder. “Eh, think I’m good now. What’s the news?” Only Ruff would have been able to pick up on the worry in his voice.

Gobber grabbed at his hook with his hand, his version of clasping his hands together. Anxiety curdled Ruffnut’s stomach.

“It’s not very good, lad. Gothi said that the arrow hit a lot of your muscles and tendons.”

“And…?” Tuffnut asked, clearly nervous now. “What does that mean, Gobber?”

“Permanent damage,” Gobber answered, a sad look in his eyes. “You won’t be able to do a lot of the things that you used to.”

Ruffnut’s heart sank and she looked to her brother.

“Y-you mean like swing a mace?” Tuff asked, eyes going wide. “O-or a sword? Or _anything?_ ”

“I’m sure you’ll figure out how to do those things with your left hand,” Gobber responded gently.

“But I’m right handed, Gobber!” Tuff cried. He stuck out his left hand and waved it around. “I can’t do much with this one!”

“Tuffnut, relax. You’ll still be able to use your right hand. It’s the mobility of your arm that’s been effected.”

“But my hand is _attached_ to my arm.”

“Dude, it’s gonna be okay.” Ruffnut took his hand and pulled it down, then gave it a reassuring squeeze. When Tuffnut looked at her his eyes were filled with tears. “You– _We’ll_ figure this out. Okay?”

Tuffnut gave a small nod. “Okay.”

 

Fishlegs managed to hold in his tears while they made preparations to stay the night. The snow had started coming down harder and there was no way they could fly in that, so they were making camp. They were just going to use the tents that were already put in place. Fishlegs didn’t like it though. It felt wrong and a little creepy to be sleeping in a tent that belonged to a now-dead man. That was, if he could get any sleep at all.

He stood alone with Meatlug, comforted by his dragon’s presence. She was somber too, understanding that, despite winning the battle, they’d been handed a defeat.

He didn’t cry hard. His tears just came slowly, releasing his emotions in a steady tide. They were trying to freeze on his face, and heavy flakes of snow were falling on him, but he didn’t care.

Fishlegs had been optimistic that morning, so sure that they’d come here and find Hiccup, rescue him from his torment. Now they were left with nothing. They had no leads to where he was. They were back where they’d started, clueless and floundering like a child that didn’t know how to swim.

Meatlug nuzzled him affectionately, and he wrapped an arm around her head, leaned on her.

“Hey, girl,” he said, voice broken. “You were great today.” He was trying to keep himself from thinking about what was happening to Hiccup, wherever he was. Those thoughts were buried somewhere deep. He wasn’t necessarily denying it, but he was keeping it at bay.

Meatlug made a sad sound in her throat, and Fishlegs looked down at her. Her eyes were big and sorrowful. 

“Come on. We should probably get inside.” Fishlegs didn’t move though, just stayed in that spot. He stood there till his tears stopped and dried in icy trails down his face, till he was left in the gloom of the oncoming night.

 

Stoick stood on the beach, watching the burning Berserker ship drift away. They’d gathered the bodies of the dead soldiers to give them a proper send off to Valhalla. Part of him felt that they didn’t deserve it. They had worked for Dagur, had aided him in keeping his son’s whereabouts a mystery. He felt an intense anger towards them for that, but he knew that this was the right thing to do. 

It grew dark quickly, the snow clouds obscuring the sky and the setting sun. Soon, he lost sight of the boat in the whirlwind of white flakes.

Stoick hadn’t spoken a word to anyone since Spitelout had stopped him from beheading that man. Even if there was something for him to say, he couldn’t make his voice work.

He knelt in the snow, well aware of how he was still covered in blood, most of it not even his own. He buried his hands into it, leaned over and began scrubbing it on his face. It was cold, but it did nothing to draw him out of his somber state. The snow that fell away from him was stained red.

He straightened once he was done cleaning his face, looked off towards the direction the ship had disappeared in. The snow was beginning to soak through his clothes.

Then, he spoke for the first time in hours, a whisper: “Odin, where is he?”

 

Hiccup tried not to react as Dagur buried his face into his neck. The sex was thankfully over, but the chief was always intent on cuddling with him afterwards. They lay on the cot under the furs, and Hiccup would have found it rather comfortable if not for the body pressed into his back. Dagur had untied him and taken his robe off of him before laying him down, so now he was naked. He wouldn’t be surprised if he had to endure another screwing from him before the evening was out.

He focused on his breaths, trying to keep them even. He’d been holding his exhaustion at bay, but he let it in, let it root itself deep within him. Eventually, that would overpower his fluttering heart and twisting insides, push his shame down to deal with later. 

“Hiccup, do you know how beautiful you are?” Dagur asked, almost in a whisper.

“I-I don’t really think about my appearance,” Hiccup responded. He didn’t want to talk, but Dagur obviously did.

The fingers of one of Dagur’s hands ran up and down over the bandages on his stomach. “Really?”

“Yeah.” There was no way that he was going to tell Dagur that, when the rare thought of his appearance did cross his mind, it was usually one of insecurity. He thought he was too thin, not muscular enough, that his ears were too big, his teeth awkward – never mind how he felt about what remained of his left leg. That part of him was ugly, covered in atrocious scars that would never go away. None of this, of course, was helping with his self-confidence.

“Well, I’m of the opinion that you look fantastic,” he said, breath against his skin. “And anyone who disagrees can eat my axe.”

“How kind of you,” Hiccup said sarcastically. 

“You know, I used to think you were so adorable,” Dagur said as if he hadn't heard him. “I mean, you still are, but man did you grow up good! You're hot now too and just-” he held him tighter- “so fuckable.”

Hiccup didn't move even though he wanted to fight his way out of Dagur's embrace. At the moment, struggling wouldn't get him anywhere. He would just have to listen to his rambles.

“Guess I can’t blame Astrid for fucking you,” he continued. “If I was her I would have too.” He fell silent, as if thinking about something. “Hiccup, who’s better? Me or her?”

He was shocked by the question. “ _Excuse_ me?”

Dagur rested his chin on his shoulder, beard scratching uncomfortably against his skin. “Who’s better at sex?” he asked. “Me or Astrid?”

“I’m not answering that.”

“Why not?”

Hiccup reined in his stubbornness. He knew Dagur wasn't going to drop it.

“Astrid,” he said quietly. It felt wrong to think about her while he was naked in bed with Dagur. Part of him felt like he'd betrayed her. Though, he figured that didn't necessarily matter now. Why would she ever want him now that he’d been claimed by Dagur, inside and out?

“What does she do that you like?” Dagur asked eagerly. Hiccup had expected him to be upset. “Tell me.”

“For one, she doesn't rape me.” Hiccup’s voice was hard. Why couldn't the man just shut up and leave him alone?

Dagur sighed dramatically. “Would you stop with that?”

“No.”

Another sigh. “Fine, whatever.” Then his voice got excited again. “Who gives the best blowjobs?”

Hiccup wasn't having anymore of this. 

“Your mom.”

That gave Dagur pause. He lifted himself off him a little, probably giving him a perplexed look. Hiccup didn't dare move, thinking that maybe he shouldn’t have said anything.

Then Dagur laughed, forcefully rolling Hiccup over onto his back.

“Oh gods, you're too funny!”

Before Hiccup could respond, Dagur was grabbing at his face, finding his lips with his. It was a short kiss, and Dagur had a huge smile on his face when he pulled away.

“I seriously love you.”

Hiccup closed his eyes as he moved atop him and kissed him again. Just as he’d predicted: before the evening was out.


	31. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took forever to write. I've been really sick with a sinus infection for the past three weeks or so now, which is really slowing me down. Hope you like this chapter. And if you didn't think Dagur was delusional before, you'll definitely be thinking it now.

Dagur never liked being woken up in the middle of the night, and he _definitely_ didn’t like being woken up by the sound of Hiccup screaming.

He was pulled instantly from the grogginess of sleep. Hiccup wasn’t in his arms like he had been when they’d fallen asleep, and he rolled over onto his other side. He was smacked hard in the face the instant he did so, then kicked in the legs. His first, split-second reaction was to be angry, but then he realized that Hiccup was probably still asleep, trapped in some nightmare.

“Hiccup!” he shouted over his screams, grabbing at his wrists. He grunted as one of Hiccup’s knees hit him in the stomach. He shook him. “Hiccup, wake up!”

His Dragon Rider’s eyes suddenly flitted open. They searched around before landing on his face and growing wide. His breaths were heaving in and out. It was too dark to see, but Dagur was certain there were tears on his face. He breathed a sigh and released his wrists, then wrapped his arms around him and pulled him up against his chest. Hiccup made no protest. He was trembling against him.

“You have nightmares a lot, don’t you?” Dagur asked quietly.

“Yeah.” Hiccup’s voice almost didn’t come out. He rested his hands against his chest, a small sob leaving his lips. 

Dagur cradled his head, hoping he’d be able to comfort him. “About what?” 

“T-Toothless,” Hiccup stammered out. “Y-you k-k-killed Toothless.” He sobbed much louder this time and didn’t stop. 

_Of course it’s about that stupid dragon._

Dagur wasn’t going to say anything along those lines of course. That would just make Hiccup feel worse.

“Sh, Hiccup, I’m not gonna kill Toothless,” he told him gently, stroking his hair. “I don’t want to anymore, okay? I promise.”

“P-p-promise?”

“Promise.” Dagur kissed him on the forehead, then buried his nose into his hair, breathing in his scent. “Your dragon’s safe.”

Hiccup didn’t say anything, just sniffled.

“What else do you dream about?” Dagur inquired, curious. He now had all the opportunities to know things about Hiccup that he never had before, so of course he was going to ask questions.

“Wh-why do you care?”

“Because it’s _you_ , Hiccup,” Dagur answered. “I’ve known you almost all my life, but I don’t really know _about_ you.” He’d only now come to that realization. They’d known each other for a long time, but had never connected on such a personal level. 

Hiccup sighed a little in what sounded like defeat. “I dream about flying. Or, I used to. Now Toothless and I can’t ever get off the ground.” He sounded sad. “And I dream that everyone hates me.”

“I don’t hate you,” Dagur assured him.

“Yeah, but everyone hates me _because_ of you,” he said forlornly. 

Dagur moved his hand from his head and gently touched the left side of Hiccup’s chest, now covered by the robe. “Because of this, you mean?” 

Hiccup shifted away from him a little and lifted his head, meeting his gaze. His eyes narrowed. “Because of _you_ ,” he insisted. “ _You_ put that there.” His features fell into a sorrowful expression and his next words were a whisper: “You made me into nothing.” 

Dagur was stunned by the statement. “I…” He didn’t know what to say. He was right, in a way. He was now nothing to everyone except him. That had been the point. Hiccup couldn’t be anyone else’s except his. He was his _everything_. “Not to me,” he told him. “You’ll never be nothing to me.”

“As if you matter,” Hiccup spat, pulling himself from his grip and rolling so that his back was to him. 

The words stung, but Dagur couldn’t be mad at him for it. He was sure that Hiccup was in love with him and just hadn’t admitted it to himself yet. Such a mentality would make him say things like that.

“I do matter.” He refused to not be holding Hiccup any longer, so he wrapped an arm around him and pulled him back against him. “I’m _all_ that should matter to you now. You’re mine.”

Hiccup tensed at his words, but didn’t move or say anything. Dagur figured he had gotten his point across.

“Now, I can help you get back to sleep.” Dagur brushed his lips against Hiccup’s ear. “Would you like that?”

His Hiccup still said nothing. Dagur took that as a favorable sign and kissed at his neck. He slid his hand under his robe, trailed his fingers over his chest and stomach. He couldn’t wait for those bandages to come off so that he would be touching skin again. He teased around his manhood, caressing his thighs. The touching was rewarded with a shiver of anticipation. 

With a smile, Dagur kissed the side of his face, moving his hand to take ahold of Hiccup’s length. He heard the other man’s breath hitch as he began to stroke him gently. He became aroused in his hand and Dagur loved it, loved that he had the power to make him react in such ways.

He rolled Hiccup onto his back, positioned himself on top of him. He found his mouth with his own, teased his tongue between lips that parted for him. A quiet moan was breathed against him.

Dagur kissed him lazily, feeling tired, but he had to help his lover relax before he let himself go back to sleep. He moved his mouth down to his neck, pressing passionate kisses into his skin. His actions were praised with a pleased sound, and he smiled against Hiccup’s neck.

Still stroking Hiccup’s cock, he migrated down his body. He kissed and sucked at each of his thighs before bringing his mouth to his erection. He expected some form of protest, but none came. Hiccup just moaned. Dagur was a little amazed with how compliant he was being. He wondered if that would last, and desperately hoped that it would.

Not once did Hiccup say no or tell him to stop, and Dagur couldn’t be sure, but he thought he heard his name on his lips when he came, just a breathless utterance. He swallowed his reward before moving back up and taking Hiccup in his arms.

Dagur kissed his neck. “Sleep well, my love.”

 

Hiccup was awake before Dagur for once. He had no indication of what time it was though. It was dark in the tent and he couldn’t maneuver to see what the light through the tent flaps looked like, as he was cradled in the chieftain’s arms and facing the other direction. There was no way he was going to move and risk waking him. Dagur had begun to make it quite clear that he liked his sleep, and also that the first thing he wanted after sleeping was sex. There was no avoiding that, but at least if he didn’t wake him early, he should be in a good mood, which would probably mean less hurting on his part.

Hiccup didn’t think he liked being awake before him though. He was left in silence save for the sound of Dagur’s breathing, sometimes interspersed with a little snore. It left him very aware of the position he was in: trapped against Dagur’s chest with him breathing down his neck. His robe was hardly doing anything to cover him, in disarray from what had happened in the middle of the night.

That felt like a bit of a dream to him. It carried the surreality that events that occurred in the middle of the night often did, especially since it had just been plain weird. Why had he actually talked to Dagur about his dreams? 

Of course, Hiccup hadn't told him everything about his nightmare. It had been like the one he’d had at the beginning of his captivity, where Dagur had killed Toothless and then raped him. Now, sadly, the dream didn't cut off before that happened, as he now knew what it felt like and his mind could simulate it. He’d been horrified to be pulled from the nightmare by the very man it had been about. He hoped that they would stop so that he no longer had to endure Dagur’s “comforting.” That was the last thing he needed in this situation.

Hiccup didn't know how he wasn't panicking in his current position. Everything about having Dagur pressed against him like this was horrifying and it made his skin crawl, but he didn't move or make a sound. His breathing and heart rate had only accelerated a little bit. It seemed that, tragically, he was getting used to this.

Dagur didn't wake for what was probably a half hour. Hiccup tried to go back to sleep in that time, but he just wasn't comfortable enough to. He held back a discontented groan when he felt Dagur move against him. He really didn't want to deal with any of this.

He cringed a little as a sloppy kiss was placed on the side of his face. “Morning, babe.” Dagur's voice was heavy with sleep. He kissed him again. “You have anymore nightmares?”

“I don't know. I think I’m having one right now.”

Dagur huffed. “Well that's insulting.”

“Yeah, that's usually the point of an insult,” Hiccup grumbled. He knew that this arguing would get him nowhere and that he’d probably just end up causing more trouble for himself, but he couldn't help it. He was angry and upset and had no good way to unleash it.

“Isn't it a little early for this?” Dagur questioned tiredly. He finally let go of him and sat up. He yawned loudly, reaching his arms overhead in a stretch.

Hiccup sat up too, uncomfortable with laying down while Dagur wasn't. It put them at unequal levels.

“Never too early to start insulting you,” Hiccup answered, trying to sound cheerful just to grate at Dagur's nerves. He began fixing his robe to fully cover himself. “Besides, I thought that's what I was here for.”

Dagur grabbed his wrist as he began to tie the sash, and Hiccup shot him a glare. The chief just gave him a smile, pulling the sash out of his hands. “You know what you're here for, Hiccup,” he said lowly. “Take off the robe.”

“No thanks,” Hiccup said, doing his best to keep the fear out of his voice. “I’d like to keep it on if it's all the same to you.”

“It's not all the same to me. Take it off.”

Hiccup realized there was no way out of this. He looked away from Dagur and set his jaw before removing the robe.

Dagur caressed his shoulder. “See? That wasn't so hard, was it? Now, are you gonna be a good boy or do I have to tie you up?”

Hiccup thought about that for a moment, weighing his options. If he wasn't restrained he would certainly fight him and make matters worse, but if he was restrained he wouldn't be able to fight him at all. He’d be left defenseless. Again.

 _But Dagur will get what he wants anyway,_ Hiccup reasoned. Tightening his lips, he turned around and put his hands behind his back.

“Tie me up if you don't want me to hit you.” His voice was surprisingly even.

“Um, wow. Can't say I was expecting that.”

“Dagur, just do it!” Hiccup was losing his nerve. He wanted this done and over with as quickly as possible. He’d started trembling and tears pricked at his eyes.

“You're eager this morning,” Dagur said as he began wrapping the sash around his wrists.

“I’m not _eager_ ,” Hiccup muttered. He didn't say anymore though. If he told Dagur to do it quickly and get it over with, he’d only prolong it. He certainly enjoyed tormenting him a lot for someone who claimed to love him. He shuddered at the thought. He couldn't believe that Dagur had actually _said_ that he loved him. It was no wonder his fascination with him was so twisted. A man who wasn't capable of love believed he felt it for _him._

“Dagur, w-why do you even like me?” Hiccup asked honestly, curiosity getting the better of him.

Dagur finished binding his wrists, the knots painfully tight. He ran a hand over his spine as he spoke.

“You know, I asked myself the same question for years, and I still don't really know why. There's just something about you that I can't resist, something that no one else has.” He leaned forward and kissed his left shoulder, thankfully avoiding the still-healing burn there. “I like to think our souls are connected, that we were made for each other. Soulmates.”

Hiccup nearly lost it. He held in his screams and his words of terror and anger. Instead he just pulled in a deep breath through his mouth, feeling like he was going to be sick.

“No.” The word was strong, almost a demand.

“What? I didn't ask you-”

“ _No_ ,” Hiccup repeated. “We are _not_ soulmates!” He shifted around to face him, to meet his eyes and show him his anger. “You may think you love me but I certainly don't love you! I hate you! I’ve always hated you and I always will! I _hate_ you, Dagur! I hate you!”

Hiccup was panting once he'd finished yelling, and tears streaked his face. He'd never told Dagur he hated him before, had never really told _anyone_ that he hated them. He expected to be slapped or punched, but he didn't care. He'd finally said it.

Dagur's features didn't harden with anger; they softened to an expression that Hiccup hadn't seen on him before. Was that _pity?_

The Berserker cupped his face with one hand, his touch gentle. “Hiccup, love and hate can be so easily confused and intertwined.” Even his voice was gentle. Hiccup couldn't believe that he wasn't mad. He was starting to think this reaction was worse. It was certainly more disturbing.

“No.” Hiccup shook his head a little, an ache building in his throat as he suppressed a sob. “No, no, _no_. How do you not _get_ it?” He pulled his head away from his touch. “Y-you’re crazy. I-I hate you, and you wouldn’t kn-know what love was even if i-it smacked you right in the face.”

“How do _I_ not get it?” Dagur sounded taken aback. “How do _you_ not get it?” He spread his arms. “All this is _because_ I love you! I’m trying to make you understand!”

“Well, if this is l-love then you have a really fucked up way o-of showing it.” Hiccup wished he hadn’t stuttered, but his breathing was quick and uneven. He couldn’t hold his gaze anymore, didn’t even know how he’d done so for this long; he closed his eyes and turned his head away.

He grunted as Dagur took his jaw in a bruising grip and yanked him forward. He didn’t open his eyes though, didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing the terror in them. 

Hiccup expected him to say something, to yell, but he didn’t. He just kissed him.

 

Hiccup squirmed, struggling against his bonds. 

“Wait, Dagur, you can’t just leave me like this!” He turned his head to face the man who was now calmly dressing and donning his armor. “Y-you plan on untying me, right?”

“Nope,” Dagur replied as he fastened his belt. “I think you need a good lesson in humility.”

“Dagur, _please_ just untie me,” Hiccup implored. He didn’t like using the word ‘please’. It felt an awful lot like begging. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop insulting you. I mean it.”

“No you don’t,” Dagur said indignantly. He laughed a little. “You’d find a way to insult me even if I cut out your tongue, but this should teach you a bit.”

Hiccup gave him a smoldering look. “Well, how am I going to eat then?”

Dagur shrugged. “Figure it out.”

“And if I find a way out before you get back?”

“We’ll just have to wait and see if that happens, now won’t we?” Dagur grinned at him maniacally, then shrieked out a laugh. He came over and ruffled his hair. “See you later, babe.” He turned to leave.

“I hope you trip and fall on your axe!” Hiccup called after him as he left the tent. He was glad that Dagur didn’t turn around and come back at that. He was left alone.

In his captor’s absence, he allowed his true feelings to surface. He pressed his face into one of the pillows and groaned. He was hurting badly from his continued mistreatment. His ribs ached with every breath and the slashes he’d received a few days before stung abominably. The burns on his shoulders hurt; his brand hurt; _everything_ hurt. He hadn’t really taken a good look at himself since his captivity, and he didn’t know if he even wanted to, but he was sure he was covered in bruises. Some of them were probably in the shape of Dagur’s hands. Just another thing to mark him as his property.

His hips were tender to even the slightest touch, yet Dagur insisted on holding them like he’d fall off the world if he didn’t. His waist and thighs were in similar pain from his crushing grip, which the cut on his right thigh really didn’t like. He could feel blood seeping out despite the stitches.

Then there were the more embarrassing marks on him, the ones created by Dagur’s mouth and teeth. There were many. It was as if the man wanted to eat him, but always held himself back from doing so. They were mostly on the front of his body, clustered around his neck and thighs, some scattered across his chest and collarbone and one on his jaw. However, Dagur had decided that that morning he would add some to his rear. He had been far from gentle, and sitting would be a little more painful than it had already been.

Hiccup let himself cry. He hated crying, felt that it was a sign of weakness. He hated it even more now that he was doing it so often, but he couldn’t just hold it all in.

Crying took any strength he had left, but he didn’t fall asleep. He couldn’t with how Dagur had left him – naked and vulnerable with his hands tightly tied behind him. At the moment, he didn't care if there would be consequences: he needed to get free. Well, as free as he could in this situation.

He twisted his wrists, trying to see if he could somehow wiggle himself out. When that didn’t seem to be going anywhere, he tried to move his hands apart to loosen the sash and give himself a little more space. It didn’t budge.

Hiccup yelled in frustration, but he wasn’t planning on giving up just yet. He moved his fingers around in the hopes of grabbing onto something and untying it. He managed to find one end, but his grip on it was weak and he couldn’t do anything with it.

 _At this point I’ll have to break my wrist to get out._ That wasn’t something Hiccup wanted to do, so he’d just have to be stuck like this. He briefly thought of finding something to cut it with, but then remembered that Dagur didn’t really leave anything sharp in the tent. 

He stopped his struggles and rested the side of his face against the pillow, panting.

_This is useless. This is all useless._

Hiccup figured an hour passed where he just lay there and did nothing. At this point, boredom was turning out to be the most annoying thing. He at least wished he had something to occupy his time with. _Maybe_ he could ask Dagur for something. The idea was ridiculous, but he desperately needed something to keep his mind busy if he wanted to keep his sanity.

He was startled by a voice outside the entrance of the tent. “Hiccup, are you awake? I have your breakfast.”

 _Bryn_. His lips spread in a smile, but then it quickly disappeared. He didn’t want her to see him like this. 

“I’m not… I’m not hungry,” he lied. He was a little surprised that he was hungry. His appetite had been lacking lately.

Despite what he’d said, Bryn entered the tent. Hiccup’s face instantly heated and he looked anywhere but at her eyes. He felt like crying again, but this time from humiliation.

Bryn hurriedly set the tray she was carrying on the table and rushed over to him.

“Hiccup! What happened?”

“N-nothing.” He closed his eyes, wishing that he could die. He’d never before felt this mortified in his life. “Dagur just… he thinks he’s funny.” A despairing whimper climbed up his throat before he could do anything to stop it, and his tears had started flowing. He was surprised he even had any left. His voice came out as a pitiful groan when next he spoke: “Could you- could you please untie me?

“But… won’t he get mad?” Bryn asked, sounding a little anxious.

“I don’t know and I don’t care,” Hiccup moaned. “My hands are starting to go numb.” His stomach was churning. He couldn’t believe Bryn was seeing him like this: bruised and battered and naked – _vulnerable_. He was just glad that he was lying on his stomach so the front of his body wasn’t visible. “I’ll let him think I got free on my own.”

“Okay.” She leaned over him and began working to undo the knots. Hiccup felt like his chest was constricting. 

“He tied this really tight,” Bryn noted. “I could cut it. I’m allowed to have a knife on me.”

“No, don’t cut it!” Hiccup exclaimed. “Then he’ll know someone else helped me, and I don’t want to get you involved.” Also, he realized that if the sash was cut, he would then have nothing to keep his robe closed. The illusion of decency would be gone.

“I’ll keep trying then,” Bryn told him. 

There was an uncomfortable silence while Bryn worked on untying him. Hiccup was breathing heavily, trying to keep himself from sobbing. As if he didn’t get humiliated enough on a daily basis.

He craned his head to try and look over his shoulder. “Are you getting anywhere with it?”

“Yeah, hold on. I’ve just got one more knot to undo.”

“Oh, thank Thor,” Hiccup breathed in relief.

“Got it!” Bryn told him triumphantly, unwrapping the sash from around his wrists. Hiccup breathed a huge sigh, letting his arms rest at his sides.

“Hey, um, could you get my robe?” he asked. “It should be on the ground somewhere.”

“Sure thing.” Bryn moved away from him to search for it. Once she found it, she handed it to him and turned her back to him. Hiccup was very grateful for that.

He clenched his teeth over a pained sound as he rolled over and sat up. He picked up the robe, thankful to have it again, and put his arms through the sleeves. Then he somehow managed to get himself to stand on his one leg and pulled the robe closed around him.

“Bryn, I need that sash.”

She turned towards him, tentative until she saw that he was covered. “Wait, this?” she asked, holding it up. “But the chief tied you up with this.”

“Yeah, he likes being ironic,” Hiccup replied as Bryn handed him the sash. He wrapped it around his waist and tied it loosely so as not to aggravate his injuries. He sat, wincing and closing his eyes as he did so. His ass definitely didn’t appreciate the biting and spanking it had received that morning.

Bryn didn’t say anything for a moment or two, which Hiccup was thankful for. He was allowed to take deep breaths and try to collect himself.

“Are you doing okay, Hiccup?” she asked gently.

Hiccup couldn’t hold in a cynical laugh. _Okay?_ He was the _farthest thing_ from okay. He opened his eyes to look at her, but he found it difficult to meet her gaze. He was afraid of what he would see there. He instead focused on a distinct freckle near the tip of her nose.

“If okay means I hurt everywhere, then yeah, sure, I’m doing okay. I am _excellent_.” He cracked a bit of a smile to try to diminish the sarcasm in his words.

Bryn frowned and her brows furrowed in worry. “Hiccup, what is he doing to you?” Her voice was soft.

Hiccup turned his head away from her, biting his bottom lip a little. He was quiet for a time, but then he answered with: “Nothing you need to worry about. I’m fine.”

“Okay. Just know that if you need to talk, I’ll listen.”

Hiccup gave a small nod.

“Now, do you want to eat at the table or should I bring the food to you?”

“Could you bring it to me, please?”

Bryn brought the tray over and then sat beside him. Hiccup found himself uncomfortable with how close she was, and he shifted away a little.

“Can I ask about your life on Berk?” Bryn inquired as he began eating. He thought for a bit, almost said no, but then decided that it was okay to talk about it. She probably would find most of the things he said hard to believe anyway.

“Yeah, go for it.”

She eagerly moved closer, and Hiccup made himself stay put. It was okay to have her this close to him. She wasn’t going to hurt him. She wasn’t Dagur.

“Did you have a job or anything?” Bryn asked. Hiccup found the courage to meet her eyes, and there was a spark of excitement in them. No sign of judgment or anything else negative like he’d feared.

“Not an official job, but I do, or, _did_ a lot of things.” Using the past tense hurt a little bit, but he kept going. “Been trained as a blacksmith since I was eight by my dad’s friend Gobber, so I help him out in the shop and all. I’m an artist too. I used to draw and paint quite a bit.” Hiccup paused, a real smile lighting on his face.

_She’s going to get a kick out of this._

“And I train and study dragons. Ride one too.” 

Bryn was stunned silent for a moment. Then she laughed.

“Hiccup, that’s ridiculous!” she cried in amusement. “No one can do that!”

Hiccup wasn’t hurt by her disbelief. He actually found it a little entertaining that he could tell her absolutely anything about his life and most of it would sound like a story he’d come up with. Besides, it was nice to hear a laugh other than Dagur’s.

“No, I’m serious,” he went on. “I ride a Night Fury named Toothless.”

Bryn laughed again. “Why would you name a dragon Toothless? Don’t they have tons of teeth?” She raised her hands near her face, curled her fingers, and bared her teeth as a demonstration.

“Because his teeth are retractable. You know, like a cat’s claws.”

“Hiccup, that’s crazy.” There was a bright smile on her face and her cheeks were turning pink. “And come on, no one’s even seen a Night Fury.”

“Yeah, he is kind of hard to spot in the dark,” Hiccup responded, smiling as well. It felt good to do that. “I’ve tripped on him a few times, usually on my way to bed.”

Bryn looked astonished. “You keep him in the house?!”

“Yeah. He even has his own place to sleep near my bed.”

Bryn seemed to just be going along with it now for the fun of it, but it was obvious she still thought all of this was fake.

“You’re not afraid of him eating you?”

“Toothless likes fish, not people,” Hiccup replied. Then he suddenly remembered that he had food in front of him, and he began eating quite eagerly. He _was_ hungry, and eating a proper meal would be good for him. Everything he was going through was taking a lot of energy out of him, so he might as well try to replenish it. “Don’t ever give him eels though. Dislikes them as much as I do.”

“Odin’s beard, Hiccup! Next you’re going to tell me that he talks or something.”

“Well, he does talk, but not in Norse. He and the other dragons just have their own language.”

Her eyes got a little big. “Other dragons?”

“Yep,” Hiccup answered, finding her reactions very entertaining. “All my friends are Dragon Riders too.”

Bryn snorted. “What kind of dragons do they ride?”

“Astrid…” Saying her name almost made Hiccup feel like he was choking and he grimaced, but then continued. “Astrid rides a Deadly Nadder named Stormfly. Fishlegs has a Gronckle named Meatlug. She’s pretty cute, but oh _boy_ does that dragon have gas!” Bryn laughed incredibly hard at that, clutching her stomach, and Hiccup had to wait for her to quiet down before he could go on. Tuffnut and Ruffnut ride a Hideous Zippleback together. It works out because they’re twins and the dragon has two heads.”

“Hold on, so, does the dragon just have one name or two?” Bryn looked quite confused by this. “Does it even count as one dragon?”

“Counts as one dragon because there’s only one body, but each head is like a separate dragon and has its own personality. Just think of it as two dragons stuck together. Each head has his own name. Ruffnut rides Barf and Tuffnut rides Belch.”

“Hiccup, some of these names are absolutely ridiculous.”

“I mean, not really. My name’s _Hiccup_. Okay? I’m named after a contraction of the diaphragm.” He found himself laughing at that along with Bryn. 

“Anymore Dragon Riders?”

“Yeah, my pain-in-the-ass cousin, Snotlout. He rides a Monstrous Nightmare named Hookfang.” He’d used the insulting term affectionately. Snotlout was annoying, but he was honestly one of his best friends and he missed him as much as everybody else.

“A Monstrous Nightmare?!” Bryn exclaimed in disbelief. “I thought those dragons set themselves on fire!”

Hiccup chuckled. “Oh, they do. We’ve found Snotlout with his butt in a tub of water more times than we can count. He and Hookfang have an odd relationship.”

Bryn’s eyes were bright with amusement. “Hiccup, I don’t even think I believe you, but you _have_ to tell me more.”

Hiccup’s smile widened. “Don’t worry. I have a lot to tell.”


	32. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We interrupt your regularly scheduled evil with Chicken cuddles. (At least, in the very beginning.)

Tuffnut couldn’t sleep. He lay on his back staring at the ceiling, his right arm held in a sling across his chest. His pain was a dull, incessant throbbing, which was a vast improvement from the burning agony it had been. He knew Loki wasn’t the god of nature, but he thanked him for medicinal plants anyway. Maybe he’d pass it on to Sif, who _was_ the goddess of nature. He was especially thankful for whatever it was that Gothi had given him. It made his body feel fuzzy and his eyelids heavy with sleep. Yet, he was awake – exhausted and restless with his thoughts making little sense to even him.

There was a quiet tapping sound on the floor, approaching his bed. He looked to find Chicken fluttering up onto the bed beside him. She made a quiet clucking noise and tilted her head.

“Hey, Chicken,” he greeted her in a whisper, happy to see his pet. “What are you doing up?” His words came out slowly, sounding like he was on his way to getting drunk.

“ _Brrk_ ,” Chicken responded softly.

“Mm, yeah, I hear ya. I’m nervous about everyone else too.” That was the main reason Tuffnut couldn’t sleep. The battle had probably been over hours ago, and he hoped to all the gods that they’d found Hiccup. He was dying to know if they had, didn’t know how he’d feel if they hadn’t.

“ _Bawwk._ ”

“Chicken, keep it down,” Tuff whispered. “Ruffnut’s sleeping.”

Chicken flapped her wings a little, then tilted her head curiously at his shoulder. She didn’t seem to know what to think of the injury. Frankly, he didn’t either. Permanent damage? Certainly Gothi had gotten that wrong. Sure, he couldn’t do anything with his arm now, but give it a few weeks and he’d be back at it… right?

There was a tiny pit of hopelessness forming in his stomach, and a part of him that wanted to cry. He held back the tears. Crying would give acknowledgement to the situation, and for now he was perfectly fine with his denial.

He rolled onto his left side, and Chicken came around so that she was facing him. Before Tuffnut could beckon to her, she was snuggling herself up against him. He smiled tiredly, then finally let his eyes close.

 

  
Tuffnut stood outside the stables. Or, he tried to. He was leaning on Ruffnut more than anything. They would have been standing almost knee-deep in snow, but they’d been busy all morning taking Barf and Belch around and melting it. It had been difficult flying with the use of only one arm and more of Gothi’s potion in him, but he’d insisted on helping. He didn’t want to feel useless.

“Bro, I really think you should go to bed,” Ruffnut commented. “I can’t hold you up all day.”

“Jus’ till they get back,” Tuffnut said, words coming out slurred. He was in agreement with Ruff, tired from both the medicine and the work they’d done, but he wanted to know that his friends were safe first.

“Okay, but, how about you sit down? You’re getting heavy.”

“Mm.” Tuffnut looked at the wooden boards beneath his feet. “Good… idea…”

Ruffnut helped him down to the floor so he could sit cross-legged. Instead of continuing to stand, she sat with him, both of them looking out at the clearless blue sky.

Neither of them said anything, just enjoying each other’s company in silence. Tuffnut was fighting the urge to lay down on his back and just fall asleep right there. He couldn’t though. He had to know first.

After a few minutes, the quiet was broken by a call from Gobber. They both looked to see him lumbering over, a bright smile on his face and a scroll clutched in his hand.

“What is it, Gobber?” Ruffnut asked, standing. Tuff remained where he was.

He waved the scroll. “Terror Mail from Heather and Astrid.” He gave them a toothy grin, a glint in his eyes. “Heather’s been named chief and the Berserkers have agreed to help us fight Dagur.”

“That’s excellent!” Tuff and Ruff responded at once, though Tuff’s words came out much slower, messing up their sync. The hopelessness that had come upon him the night before began seeping away. Finally, some good news.

“Wait…” Tuffnut said, realizing something. “What about… What about Viggo? Anything ’bout that?”

Gobber opened the scroll, looked it over, then shook his head. “Heather said they haven’t told them about the Dragon Hunters.”

“Why not?” Ruffnut asked, beating Tuffnut to the question.

“She said things are a little tense over there and that she doesn’t want to make it worse,” Gobber answered. He handed the scroll to Ruffnut. “Here. You can read it yourself if you want to.”

Ruffnut took it, read it, then gave it to Tuffnut. He had to read it twice before it actually made sense, the drugs hindering his thinking.

_I’ve been appointed as chief of the Berserkers and the council agreed to help in the fight against Dagur. I haven’t told them about the Dragon Hunters just yet. It was difficult enough to get them to agree to help Berk with this. It’s kind of tense over here and I don’t even want to try getting them to join a war that has nothing to do with them. The people have taken well to Windshear and Stormfly. I hope things are alright on your end. Astrid and I both really want some news.  
\- Heather_

Beside her name was the Berserker crest. It was odd to see that next to the name of someone Tuffnut considered a friend. Usually seeing that crest meant trouble, not anything good.

“That’s good,” Tuffnut commented, giving the letter back to Ruffnut. Then he yawned into his hand. Going to bed was beginning to seem like a very nice idea, but he’d wait till the return of his chief and his friends. It shouldn’t be much longer now. He rested his face in his hand and closed his eyes, not bothering to pay attention to the continued conversation between Ruffnut and Gobber.

He dozed a little bit, but was pulled from it by someone nudging him in the shoulder.

“Tuff, you awake?”

“Huh?” He groggily opened his eyes, looked to see Ruffnut leaning over him. “What is it?”

Ruffnut pointed out towards the ocean. “They’re almost here.”

He slowly turned his head, spotted Stoick, the rest of the Dragon Riders, and the A Team about a mile off. He almost smiled, but then anxiety sparked in his stomach. Had they found Hiccup? Had anyone else been hurt?

Tuffnut waited with Ruffnut and Gobber in silence, the air thick with nerves. They were all asking themselves the same questions.

As they grew closer, Tuff looked to see if there was anyone else on Skullcrusher with Stoick. All he could see was the chief. His stomach dropped, but then he searched through the other Riders. Maybe one of them had Hiccup instead.

He found nothing. Hopelessness began rushing back to him, but he kept frantically looking between each rider. Hiccup _had_ to be there somewhere.

They grew closer and still nothing. He squinted, almost like if he looked harder then suddenly he’d be there, popping into existence.

Closer, closer, but nothing. No Hiccup. Then they were landing all around him, but with no words, and still no Hiccup. It felt like something inside him died. All that had been for nothing? He’d been shot in the shoulder for nothing?!

Stoick dismounted, his expression hard and impassive. His clothes were stained with red.

Gobber looked absolutely heartbroken. “Chief-”

Stoick held out a hand to quiet Gobber. He didn’t speak a word though, just walked right on past him.

“Wait, Stoick.” He stopped him with his hook on his shoulder, and the chief gave him a look that could have made a dragon drop dead, but Gobber didn’t let go of him. “We got Terror Mail from Heather.” His voice shook. He held the scroll out to him.

Tuffnut tried reading Stoick’s expression as he read the letter, but there was nothing there. There didn’t even seem to be life in his eyes. Then suddenly, the chief ripped the paper right in half, then let each piece fall to the floor.

“It doesn’t matter.” Still looking completely empty inside, Stoick turned and went into the stables, Skullcrusher following, footsteps somber.

Tuffnut wanted to say something, but there was nothing. He glanced between each Rider, his sister, Gobber, and they all shared the same saddened and hopeless expression that he no doubt wore himself.

That had all been for nothing.

 

“So you got yourself free?”

“Yep,” Hiccup responded as smugly as he could, hoping Dagur wouldn’t be angry. He sat cross-legged on the cot, facing him. He’d woken from a nap about two hours ago and since then had had nothing to do but anxiously wait for the chief’s return. Had he had his prosthetic, he probably would have spent the time pacing.

“You see? That’s exactly why you’ve got this,” Dagur said matter-of-factly, kicking at the chain attached to Hiccup’s foot that trailed over the ground. Hiccup couldn’t help but glare a little.

Dagur came over and sat beside him. Hiccup began to move away, but a large arm wrapped around him, pulling him closer. His heart beat faster at the physical contact.

“So how was your day?” He asked the question casually, as if there was nothing at all strange about this situation.

“Boring,” Hiccup responded, not looking at him. “What’d you expect? It’s not like I have anything to do.”

“Well, now that I’m back, you can do me.” Dagur almost couldn’t get the words out without laughing.

Hiccup frowned. “Dagur, that’s not funny.” He then took a deep breath, steeling himself to look at him. He couldn’t meet his eyes though, so he looked at his eyebrows. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. “But seriously, I’m going to lose my mind if I don’t have something to do. Could I… maybe…?” He trailed off, couldn’t find the courage to ask his question.

Dagur put his palm to his head. “Ah, sorry, Hiccup. I didn’t think of that.” He sounded genuinely apologetic. “What do you like? Drawing, right?”

Hiccup didn’t answer for a moment, a little astonished by this rare show of actual concern for him. He shook himself out of it, then nodded. “Yeah. Reading too.”

“Alright. I’ll have some gifts for you tomorrow then.” Dagur smiled. “But in the meantime…”

Hiccup tightly closed his eyes as Dagur moved in and kissed him. Then, as his tongue invaded his mouth, one of his hands went around his neck, not squeezing tight enough to block off all his air, but enough so that in a few moments he was beginning to feel lightheaded.

Dagur pulled away, but Hiccup still didn’t open his eyes.

“Mm, Hiccup you look so hot with my hand around your neck.” His grip tightened and Hiccup choked, instinctively bringing up his hands and grabbing at him, trying to pry his fingers loose. As he struggled, he felt Dagur’s other hand move under his robe and up his right thigh before taking ahold of his manhood and stroking. A strangled whimper crawled up his throat.

He fought for air as pleasure began burning through his veins. Somehow, not being able to breathe made Dagur’s touch feel better than usual. He hated it.

Though, Hiccup stopped fighting, loosened his grip on Dagur’s wrist. He began to welcome the loss of air. Maybe this time the man would accidentally kill him. That was something he couldn’t help but wish for.

A groan tried escaping as he became aroused, but it came out sounding like a pathetic squeak. His lungs and throat burned. A part of him, the instinctual part of him that wanted to live, was screaming at him to fight, to fight as hard as he could to be able to breathe again, but he remained still, even as Dagur started kissing him again.

Hiccup fainted.

 

He woke to a burst of pleasure, finding himself naked on his back with his legs spread, and three slick fingers deep inside of him. He shifted a little, breathed a soft moan. He tried moving his hands but they were tied in front of him.

“Hey, Hiccup, you waking up over there?”

“Fuck you,” he rasped out, throat aching. He wanted to struggle but couldn’t find the energy to.

Dagur chuckled. “That’s a yes, then.”

Hiccup took in an airy gasp as Dagur crooked his fingers inside of him in a ‘come here’ motion. His hips rose up a little of their own accord.

“Hey, you think I can fit my whole hand in there?”

Hiccup’s eyes popped open at that, terror striking him hard. “No, Dagur, don’t!” he pleaded hoarsely, voice barely making it past his lips. The man paid him no heed, and his back arched in a mix of pain and pleasure as a fourth finger entered him. It was a strange sensation. He’d never been stretched so much before.

Then Dagur’s thumb slipped inside. Hiccup choked on a cry, attempted to move away from him, but then there was a hand on his hip to hold him down. Inside of him, his hand balled into a fist, pushed against his prostate. The sensations set him shaking.

“Shit, I love it when I get you shaking like that,” Dagur commented, voice husky with need.

Hiccup could do nothing as Dagur pushed his hand farther into him. He almost felt like he was going to faint again. He’d never had anything this far up before. He opened his mouth to moan and cry out, but his voice wouldn’t come, damaged for the moment from being strangled.

He was rubbing insistently against his prostate, and his body trembled harder in response. Hiccup could feel his orgasm building, setting his nerves alight.

“Yeah, Hiccup, that’s it,” Dagur coaxed. “Cum for me.”

In a few seconds Hiccup was doing just that. He gasped loudly, tried to scream as he was completely obliterated by pleasure like he’d never felt before. He lost himself to it, could hear Dagur speaking but it was drowned out by everything else he was feeling.

He came back to himself, panting, sweat beading on his skin. His body was encompassed by a pleasant buzzing, still shaking as he rode out the last waves of his climax. For the moment he forgot where he was, mind dissolving into the physical sensations. He felt relaxed in a way he hadn't in a long time.

His bliss was shattered by a sudden agony stabbing through him. Hiccup's mouth opened in a silent scream. He attempted to escape the hand that was vigorously pumping his over sensitive cock, but there was nowhere for him to go. It didn't help that Dagur's other hand was still inside of him pushing against that cursed bundle of nerves.

He gave Dagur a pleading look, mouthing: “ _Stop. Please stop._ ” The Berserker just gave him a sadistic grin and increased his speed.

Hiccup became trapped in convulsions, eyes rolling back. Intense pleasure and agony battled in his nerves and he was gasping wildly, trying to scream though his voice wouldn't work. He’d never felt anything remotely like this before and he wanted it to stop _this instant._

Hiccup didn't know how long this went on, but Dagur didn't stop until he was a shuddering, tear-soaked ruin. Finally free of his touch, he rolled onto his right side, body racked with silent sobs. He knew this small reprieve wouldn't last long though, knew that Dagur wasn't finished with him yet. He begged for his own heart to stop.

There was a body pressed into his, the touch cool compared to his own flushed skin. An arm wrapped tight around his chest.

Hiccup managed to let out a moan as Dagur’s cock entered him with ease. Then Dagur had both his arms around him, was thrusting into him slowly. Teeth gnawed at his ear.

“Oh, babe, that was absolutely beautiful,” Dagur groaned. The closeness of his voice made his hair stand on end. He would have thrashed and kicked and tried to get away, but the over stimulation had left him incapacitated. “I like hurting you as much as I like pleasuring you, and it's the best thing ever when I can do both at the same time.”

Hiccup just moaned again, unable to form words or even coherent thoughts. His tears kept coming.

“Plus it made you all compliant. You’re not even struggling.” He laughed much too loudly right in his ear. “On a scale of one to ten how ruined would you be if I got you to cum again?”

“Let go of me,” Hiccup rasped out, his mind beginning to piece itself back together. At his words, Dagur just held on harder and increased his pace, causing him to whimper.

“Not gonna happen. Come on, Hiccup. Just let your big brother take care of you, okay?”

“You’re – disgusting.”

“Yes I am!” Dagur sang proudly.

Hiccup grunted and kicked his legs, though the movement was weak. Dagur took a crushing hold of his left thigh so he just stopped moving altogether. What was the point anyway? He made himself relax and go completely limp.

“Good boy, Hiccup.” The words were practically a purr. “Good boy.”

 

Bryn approached the tent, carrying a large tray of food, a bottle of wine held tight under her arm. She was well-practiced in balancing everything and making sure she wouldn’t drop it.

She felt disappointment at the fact that she was also bringing the chief dinner. That meant she wouldn’t be able to spend time with Hiccup.

Two guards stood watch about ten feet away from the large tent, and they let her pass with hardly a glance. Her presence was inconsequential and she was allowed to go almost anywhere she pleased. She was usually treated as if she was invisible, which was one reason she liked Hiccup so much. He’d asked her her name.

Bryn pushed open one flap with her foot, then ducked inside. Head down as she was used to, she veered left and headed for the table.

Though she was trying not to pay any attention to whatever was going on in the tent – she’d learned to stay out of people’s business – her curiosity was driven by sounds of what sounded like exertion. She set the tray and the wine bottle down on the table as quietly as possible, then looked up, hoping she wouldn’t be noticed.

Her face turned red in an instant as she was met with the chief’s naked backside. She would have averted her eyes and left in a hurry save for the fact that she was terribly confused and wanted to understand what was going on. She got a glimpse of Hiccup, held flush against the chief. The hoarse moans she heard were coming from him, and the chief was grunting and breathing curses, pivoting his hips back and forth.

_What’s he doing to him?_

Bryn felt disturbed by what she was seeing, especially since she couldn’t understand it. What in the world was going on?

Hiccup cried out, voice weak and raspy, definitely not how it had sounded that morning. It seemed like he was in pain.

Her stomach clenched. She probably wasn’t supposed to be seeing this, whatever this was. Lowering her head again, hair covering her reddened cheeks, she hurried out of the tent.

 

Hiccup wasn’t much of a drinker, but he quickly downed an entire glass of wine before even touching his food. Dagur gave him a curious look from across the table when he reached for the bottle and refilled his glass.

“Didn’t imagine you being a drinker,” he commented.

“I’m not.” Hiccup gulped down more wine, welcoming the taste and the burn in his throat. He was determined to get drunk, to numb what he was feeling for at least a little while.

“Um…” Dagur looked confused. “Okay then.”

Sadly, Dagur wanted to talk throughout the meal. His questions were just small, curious ones, completely harmless, but he wasn’t in the mood to answer, especially with how his throat was hurting and his voice was barely working. He knew Dagur would get mad though, so he was answering anyway.

“What’s your favorite color?”

Hiccup frowned down at his robe. “Red,” he answered quietly.

“Perfect! Had the robe made in your favorite color and didn’t even know it.”

Hiccup’s frown just deepened. He found his only article of clothing to be a sensitive topic. It provided some decency, but it could be taken from him by the same man that had given it. He hated it, but was also beginning to feel an attachment to it. It was all he had, and he didn’t even fully own it.

“What? You don’t like it?” Dagur tilted his head a little.

“Hey, Dagur, when’s your birthday?” Hiccup asked, completely changing the topic. If Dagur could ask him questions, he could do the same.

“October twenty third,” he answered. “Which is actually next week.” He smiled in a way that made Hiccup’s skin crawl. “And you’re my present.”

Hiccup had to drink more wine to keep his terror at bay. He was beginning to feel a buzz from it, though he thought that maybe he needed something stronger to get himself completely inebriated.

“And yours is February…?” Dagur prompted.

“Twenty ninth.”

“The date that only comes around every four years?” Dagur asked incredulously. He slapped his hand down on the table and shrieked out a laugh. “Of course that’s when you were born! Just your luck, isn’t it?” He kept on laughing, finding that terribly funny for some reason, and Hiccup drank some more wine.

Hiccup ate slowly, knowing that once dinner was over he’d be raped again. He also wanted time for the alcohol to take effect. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he was drunk.

Dagur thought that getting drunk was a good idea, and once they’d finished the bottle of wine he had someone bring them mead. Hiccup didn’t actually like mead, but he drank it greedily.

It worked much faster than the wine, and soon Hiccup was feeling dizzy and relaxed, and almost detached from himself in a way. That was good. That was exactly what he needed.

He barely reacted when Dagur picked him up and laid him down on the cot. He let him pull his robe off of him. He let him kiss him. He let him do whatever he wanted with him. He was driven into unconsciousness by the alcohol and his own exhaustion before it was even over.

 

Hiccup and Dagur both had awful headaches the next morning. Hiccup just wanted to lay there and never move again, but, true to form, Dagur still wanted sex. His movements were slow and sloppy and for once he didn’t get him to climax. Hiccup was perfectly fine with that and he drifted right back off to sleep once the chief was finished with him.

He woke some hours later, thankfully alone and his head not hurting as badly as it had been earlier. The headache didn’t make him regret the alcohol though. His memory of the night before was foggy at best due to his drunkenness, and he was grateful for that.

After putting on his robe, he laid back down, body aching absolutely everywhere. There was dried blood staining his bandages; he’d need to have his wounds tended to soon.

“Hiccup?”

“Hmm?” He lifted his head and opened his eyes, found Bryn standing near the entrance to the tent, the usual tray in hand. Something about her seemed off. Her stance was more timid than usual.

_Weird._

Hiccup forced himself to sit up. The motion made him dizzy and he put a hand to his head.

“Uh, you okay?”

“Fine,” he answered, voice grating in his throat.

“What’s wrong?” Bryn asked, not falling for his blatantly obvious lie.

Hiccup rubbed at his eyes, then ran a hand through his hair. “Drank too much last night,” he responded hoarsely. His throat felt swollen and his neck hurt badly.

Bryn came over and set the tray beside him before sitting down. “What happened to your neck?” she asked, pointing. He obviously had bruises there.

Hiccup found her concern touching and annoying all at the same time. He was in a sour mood and he almost wanted to tell her to leave.

“Dagur got a little too eager with strangling me yesterday. It’s a shame he didn’t kill me.”

Bryn looked taken aback by the morbid comment. She just blinked at him in shock.

“Sorry,” Hiccup said. “I’m not in a good mood today.” He began eating, not looking at her. She was giving off tension and discomfort.

“He strangles you?” she asked after some time in an uncomfortable silence.

“Usually not to the point where I faint, but yeah.” Hiccup quickly discovered that it hurt to swallow, but he kept eating, actually having an appetite.

More tense silence. Hiccup had nothing to say to break it, so it continued till Bryn spoke.

“So, um, how did you like your dinner last night?”

He lifted his head to look at her, raised his eyebrows. That was an odd question.

“Uh, it was good, I guess.”

Bryn’s face suddenly heated and she clenched her hands in her lap. She turned her head away.

“I was the one who brought it.”

Had Hiccup had anything in his mouth he would have choked. The food had evidently been brought in sometime while Dagur was fucking him, but he hadn’t thought much of it, too out of it at the time to worry over someone witnessing it. He knew someone had, but he hadn’t known it was Bryn. No wonder she was acting so strange.

“Oh.” That was all he could say to that, shame tearing a hole right through him. He glanced at the knife in his right hand. It was small and not very sharp, but he wondered if it could still kill him.

“What… What was the chief doing to you?” Bryn asked tentatively.

“I don’t…” Hiccup didn’t even really know what to say. He drew in a deep breath, tears pricking at his eyes. “I… I can’t talk about it.”

He didn’t want to cry, but then suddenly he was. Hard. He was slammed with emotion so strong it felt like he was punched in the chest.

Hiccup dropped his silverware with a clatter, brought his hands up to cover his face. Had he had his full voice he would have been wailing, but all he could do was let out broken sobs.

He felt Bryn’s hand on his shoulder. “Hiccup, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Y-you were-weren’t s’posed t-to see,” he stammered out. Though he was crying he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what he was feeling. Bryn had _seen_. Bryn had seen Dagur _raping_ him. He’d never wanted anyone to see that, especially not her. She evidently didn’t understand what she’d seen, but it didn’t matter. It had still happened.

Hiccup found himself apologizing, ‘sorry’ falling from his lips over and over. He had wanted to protect Bryn from that horror and he had failed.

“Hiccup, what are you apologizing for?”

“I-I didn’t want – didn’t want you to kn-know!”

Bryn didn’t say anything, her hand sliding from his shoulder. Hiccup pulled in a shuddering breath, trying to stop his crying. He lowered his hands from his face, somehow had the courage to meet Bryn’s blue eyes. It was a welcome difference from Dagur’s usually-terrifying green gaze. Her eyes were warm and caring. It helped relax him.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Bryn repeated. “I’m sorry. I didn’t-”

“No,” Hiccup croaked. “I’m glad you – glad you told me,” he realized. The air felt lighter now, no longer riddled with tension.

Bryn didn’t ask why, seeming to understand.

“You don’t have talk about it,” she began softly, “but if you need to I’ll-”

“Dagur thinks he loves me,” Hiccup suddenly blurted out. The confession came out of nowhere; he almost slapped a hand to his mouth.

“What?” Bryn asked in shock, eyes widening.

“He…” Hiccup’s mouth was dry and he licked his lips. “He thinks he loves me.” It felt strange saying the words. Hiccup had known about Dagur’s infatuation for years, but he’d only ever told Astrid and Toothless about it, and even then very little. Most of it he had kept to himself, letting his thoughts torment him in solitude.

“Like…” Bryn looked very uncomfortable. “Like ‘I wanna kiss you’ love?”

Hiccup tightened his lips and nodded, a few more tears falling free. Bryn sat back, wearing a disturbed expression.

“That’s why I’m here,” Hiccup told her. “And he says he loves me but he hurts me.”

“So he was hurting you last night?”

Hiccup hesitated before answering. “Yeah,” was all he said. He wasn’t about to explain sex to someone whose first exposure to it had been witnessing _his_ rape.

But then Bryn, ever curious, asked: “How?”

“Well, um…” Hiccup rubbed at the back of his head. He didn’t know what to say. Maybe he could tell her what was happening to him, but vaguely. He felt compelled to for some reason. “There’s this… this thing that people do, usually when they’re in love with each other. It’s only right if both people consent to it, but Dagur does it to me even though I don’t want him to.” His face had heated while he was talking, and he couldn’t hold Bryn’s gaze anymore.

“What is it?”

“Bryn,” he started, managing to look back at her, feeling distressed. “I really like you, but you have to stop asking me all these questions. And believe me: you don’t want to know what he does to me. It’s awful.”

Bryn frowned a little. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be overbearing. It’s just that you’re the first person who actually cares to talk with me. To everyone else I’m invisible and nameless.”

Hiccup felt pity for her. He couldn’t imagine living like that, being treated like he didn’t exist. It explained how talkative and inquisitive she was around him. She’d never been able to have that with anyone else.

“I’m sorry you have to live like that,” he said sincerely.

“I’m not, really,” Bryn told him with a small shrug of one shoulder. “I haven’t ever known anything different. I can’t miss something that I’ve never had.”

“But don’t you long for it? Want it?”

“I do, but that doesn’t matter. It’ll never happen.” Hiccup expected some show of sadness at this, but she’d only said it as if she was telling him that water was wet.

“I guess you’re right,” Hiccup said, feeling discouraged. He glanced at the chain on his foot. “I’m stuck here.”

“At least we’re stuck here together,” Bryn pointed out.

Hiccup looked back up at her, found it in himself to smile. “Yeah, you’re right.” Then, surprising Bryn and himself, he leaned forward and pulled her into a hug. She stiffened for a moment, but then hugged back. It felt like the best thing in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry you had to see that, Bryn.  
> Not really.


	33. Chapter 32

Viggo stood at the prow of the ship, hands folded behind him. He studied the approaching island: Dark Deep. They were still a few miles out and from this distance it looked empty, but Hiccup’s Dragon Riders were hiding in there somewhere. He felt a slight sense of victory being so close to ridding himself of this nuisance. He’d kill every last Rider and their dragons. Perhaps he’d bring the Riders’ heads to show Hiccup, just to gloat and torment him further.

His mind had been on the Berkian prince a lot over the two-week long voyage. He didn’t really know what to think of Dagur keeping him as a sex slave. It had certainly surprised him, to say the least. From what he knew of Hiccup, he could be difficult to capture and even more difficult to keep that way. He wasn’t surprised, however, by what he was being used for. Dagur’s infatuation with the Dragon Rider was more than obvious, and Ryker had mentioned it in his reports.

Hiccup was his adversary, but Viggo almost pitied him. Being a slave to the crazed chief of the Berserkers had not been something he’d seen in his future. Though at the same time, he found himself slightly jealous of Dagur. Viggo had no preference in gender when it came to sexual partners, and he’d had a growing attraction towards Hiccup before he had even met him. It was his intelligence that he found so compelling. He’d never known of anyone that matched his intellect, and he hadn’t expected his match to be a man that was about twenty years his junior. He’d never found himself so enraptured by another person before; it frightened him.

Viggo tended not to care about other people, not even his own brother. It wasn’t by choice, but something inside himself that he’d been born with, that he couldn’t change. It had confused and even frustrated him when he was a child. He hadn’t understood why he was different, why he could hardly feel anything for others no matter how hard he tried. The exception had been his grandfather – he’d actually loved him, still did, a little bit, though he’d been dead and gone for over a decade. He’d been the one to raise him and Ryker, as their father had been killed when they were both young and their mother had died birthing Viggo.

Viggo hadn’t minded when their father had died. The man had always hated him, blaming him for their mother’s death. He hadn’t shed a single tear over it, which Ryker had been furious at him for. Confused and upset, he’d sought out his grandfather, who’d consoled him by telling him it was perfectly fine to be different, but that people didn’t understand, and even feared, those who were different. He’d told him that, just for the sake of others, to learn how to pretend that he cared. He learned, and sometimes did pretend, but he’d also learned that being feared gave him power over others. He liked that power, liked the control it gave him. It was satisfying to play with people as if they were nothing but lifeless, carven game pieces – most of the time, that’s all they were to him.

But not Hiccup.

The sun was at its zenith when the fleet of a dozen ships reached Dark Deep. Taking so many to hunt down five people would seem ridiculous to anyone who didn’t know the Dragon Riders and the immense damage they could cause, but Viggo wasn’t about to give them the upper hand. He’d go to extreme lengths to win.

He ordered the fleet to surround the entire island, that way the Riders would be closed off from every direction. It would be nigh impossible for any of them to escape.

Though he didn’t usually like getting directly involved, Viggo decided to lead one of the search parties. He wanted to be the one to find the Dragon Riders, wanted to be the one to greet them before their imminent deaths.

He had his sword drawn as a precaution, the Hunters following him armed with crossbows and other weapons.

The ground was nothing but craggy rock and dirt, no foliage to be seen. It was a perfect home for the Gronckles, though he hadn’t spotted any of those either. The dragons had probably taken shelter, intimidated by the number of Hunters on their island. Viggo didn’t care though. He wasn’t here to hunt for Gronckles.

They’d been searching fruitlessly for a half hour when Viggo heard a distant rumble, the ground beneath his feet shaking a little.

“What was that?” one of the Hunters with him asked.

Viggo halted, raised a hand to signal for them to be quiet. All was silent for a moment, but then the rumbling came again, louder this time. His first thought had been that it was an earthquake, but now he was sure that it was something else.

“Viggo, look!”

He directed his gaze to the sky just in time to see a giant, brown-colored mass, distant from his position, shooting upward. Then as quickly as it had risen, it was hurdling back down, now in the shape of a ball.

_Quaken!_

There was a giant boom and the ground trembled with shockwaves, nearly throwing him off his feet. The impact was followed by distant screams.

“Get back to the ship!” Viggo ordered, turning on his heel and briskly walking past the search party, sheathing his sword on his back. “We’ll use the harpoons and ballista to take it down!” That was the only way they’d be able to kill it. The Catastrophic Quaken had a hide that was too thick for arrows to pierce, not that it would do much anyway if one could get past the tough scales. Being a Boulder Class dragon, it was immune to the effects of Dragon Root.

“What is that thing?!”

Viggo rolled his eyes at the question. “A dragon, you idiot.”

Still far away, the Quaken shot up into the air again and plummeted back down, rocking the earth beneath their feet. There were more screams, which meant more dead. The Dragon Hunter chief hoped that the other search parties would have enough sense to head back to the ships.

He was surprised that there was a Quaken at Dark Deep. The Dragon Eye had said nothing about that type of dragon living here. Then Viggo was hit with a realization. Hiccup’s Dragon Riders weren’t here and never had been. He’d known about the Quaken, and had lied and sent him here as a way to get rid of him.

“ _Clever_ , Hiccup,” he sneered under his breath. “Very clever.”

Once back at the ship, Viggo had a better view of what was happening. One of the ships was lopsided in the water and sinking, a giant hole torn right through it. As he watched, another one was becoming completely engulfed in flames. The Quaken emerged from the smoke, heading straight for another ship. It was taking them out one-by-one, growing closer to the one he was on.

A large bolt flew out from one of the ships, striking the dragon in the side. Its roar was loud enough to shake the very air. It charged at the source of the bolt, veering to the side and then ramming the hull of the ship. It tipped over like it was a toy rather than a sixty-ton war vessel.

“Shoot it when it’s up in the air and getting ready to crash down!” Viggo ordered. The dragon, being rolled up into a ball, wouldn’t have its belly exposed, but his men would be able to get a clearer shot than when it was charging at one of the ships.

Harpoon and ballista bolts shot out at the dragon as it rose into the air. Most fell short, dropping away harmlessly and arcing towards the ground. Two hit their mark, but the dragon didn’t even pause. It rolled through the air towards another ship, crashing into it and tearing a massive hole through the side.

“Increase fire! Take it down!” Viggo was getting very fed up with this dragon. It had sunken four ships in less than ten minutes and had killed countless numbers of his men.

The Quaken managed to completely destroy another ship and damage two others before it was knocked from the sky. It plummeted into the water, sending out waves that rocked Viggo’s ship up and down. There was a deep silence that followed.

Viggo leaned on the gunwale, panting, his heavy breaths out of rage rather than exertion. _Hiccup. Hiccup_ had done this, and he was going to make sure he’d regret it.

 

“Wait, Dagur! Hold on!”

“What is it?” the man snapped in clear annoyance. He was straddling Hiccup with his arms pulled behind his back, about to tie him up, as was usual now whenever he wanted to fuck him. Hiccup, however, was getting very tired of it, and had come to a difficult decision.

“Y-you don’t have to tie me up,” Hiccup told him. “I’ll cooperate. I promise.”

“Will you now?” Dagur sounded as if he didn’t believe him.

“I will. I swear.” Hiccup felt like crying, but he held his tears in. He hadn’t cried in over a week now and was quite proud of himself for it. He hadn’t even cried on Dagur’s birthday, which Dagur had decided to spend the entirety of with him. He still had a few welts on his ass from that day.

“Really?” He tightened his hold on his wrists, probably adding bruises to the ring of them that were already there.

“Yes, I…” Hiccup paused, took a deep breath to quell his nerves. “I’ll let you do what you want to me. I won’t fight. Y-you said that if I cooperated you’d give me m-my leg back.”

Dagur shrieked with laughter. He let go of Hiccup’s wrists, but he kept laughing. Hiccup felt a cold bite of fear. What was Dagur thinking of?

“Hiccup, you’re too funny!”

“What-what is it?”

Hiccup held in a shudder as Dagur ran his hands over his naked back, leaning over till he was draped over him with his mouth at his ear. “It’s funny that you think all you have to do to get your leg back is go limp for me.”

Hiccup was suddenly feeling very nauseas. He considered taking back what he had said.

“What do you want?” he asked, voice a broken whimper.

“There are a few things I want you to do,” Dagur started. He’d lowered his voice to a whisper, and it made the hair on the back of Hiccup’s neck stand on end. “I want you to kiss my boots, which you can do later when I’m actually dressed.” Hiccup cringed, knowing that the list would just get progressively worse. “I want you to make out with me. No just letting me put my tongue in your mouth. I want you to do it like you mean it.” He paused to run his lips over his ear. “I want you to suck my dick and swallow my cum. And lastly, I want you to ride me.”

Hiccup was silent, breathing hard. He swallowed back the bile in his throat. If he had the ability to walk, he could start looking for a way out of here, but was it even worth it? Could he actually make himself do all those things?

“So, you gonna do all that for me?” Dagur asked. “I do so much for you but you don’t do anything for me. That’s not really fair.”

“I don’t want to.” Hiccup bit his lip to hold in a sob, his throat aching.

“But I thought you wanted your leg back.”

“I do, but-”

“But what, Hiccup? It’s so simple. You do what I want, I give you your leg back, everyone’s happy.”

Hiccup closed his eyes. He couldn’t stand the feeling of Dagur naked atop him, the evidence of his arousal pressed against his lower back. It almost felt like he burned wherever he touched him. 

“I’ll do it,” he said quietly, resigning himself to his fate. “I’ll do what you want. Just, please get off of me.”

“Mm, there's my good Hiccup,” Dagur crooned in his ear before lifting himself off of him, which let him breathe a little easier. His stomach twisted and burned with anxiety. “Now get up and face me.”

Hiccup drew in a deep, shuddering breath, getting on all fours and then turning to face Dagur. He was leaning back on his elbows, smiling at him in satisfaction. Hiccup had never before wanted to die so badly. 

“Come here,” Dagur ordered, beckoning with one hand. Somehow, Hiccup made himself crawl over to him. He kept his eyes glued to his face. He still hadn't seen his cock and he wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible. He knew it well enough without seeing it anyway.

Once he was close enough, Dagur grabbed him and pulled him into his lap, positioning him so that he was straddling his lower half. Hiccup really didn't like the way his genitals rested against Dagur's. He especially didn't like how Dagur was looking at him like he was starving and he was the only food in sight.

Hiccup closed his eyes as one of Dagur's hands ran over his back, the other caressing his front. The chief had taken every opportunity to touch his abdomen now that the bandages were gone, wounds mostly healed and the stitches removed. That hadn't been a fun day.

Dagur straightened, both arms wrapped around him now. He pulled him closer, and Hiccup flinched as his lips touched his collarbone.

“Hiccup, relax.” He moved to run his mouth over the intricate scar on his right shoulder. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay.”

Hiccup didn’t respond. There was no point in arguing with him. He never got the upper hand in verbal fights. Well, he never got the upper hand in any fight against Dagur, for that matter. Though, he didn’t listen to him, couldn’t make himself relax.

Dagur’s mouth left his shoulder, and then Hiccup felt his breath hot on his face. One of his hands moved up to cradle the back of his head.

“Hiccup, kiss me,” he breathed.

Hiccup’s lower lip trembled and tears threatened to spill. He didn’t think he could do this. But then Dagur was forcing him to, shoving his head forward till their lips touched. Almost feeling like he was going to throw up, he kissed back. He tried telling himself in his head that this was Astrid. He was kissing Astrid. Kissing Astrid was easy. He did it all the time. Or, he used to.

The kiss deepened, though it stayed surprisingly gentle. Usually Dagur would kiss till his lips bruised and bite till he bled, but he wasn’t doing any of that now. Then again, this was Astrid, not Dagur. Astrid wasn’t rough with him unless he wanted her to be.

Hiccup dipped his tongue into Astrid’s mouth, breathing a little sigh. Tension leaked out of his muscles and he wrapped his arms around her, wondering why he hadn’t been holding her already. They took turns exploring each other’s mouths with their tongues, barely pausing to take a breath. He groaned a little, becoming aroused. It didn’t take much for that to happen anymore, his body having quickly learned that almost any physical touch, especially one involving lips, meant sex.

One of Astrid’s hands went between them, taking ahold of his hardening length and stroking. Hiccup moaned, kissed her harder. Then she was fisting a hand in his hair and tugging, pulling his head back so that they broke apart. He sighed at the touch of her lips on his neck.

“Hiccup, you’re pretty good with your mouth.”

Hiccup’s alternate version of reality shattered at the sound of Dagur’s voice, giving him the sudden urge to scream. He dug his nails into the other man’s back to keep himself in place, beginning to shake a little. Dagur growled and bit him hard in response, causing Hiccup to yelp in surprise. 

“Fuck, if I was into cannibalism I’d eat you,” Dagur said against his neck, letting go of his cock and instead stroking his hand over his back.

Utterly disturbed and shocked by the comment, Hiccup tried pulling away, but Dagur chomped down on his left shoulder, holding him in place with his teeth. He cried out at the pain.

“Y-you’re sick, Dagur,” he stammered out. 

Dagur lifted his head to look at him, and Hiccup made him meet his gaze with a glare.

“Take it as a compliment,” he told him. “I meant it as one.”

“Wow. Your eloquence has me stunned,” Hiccup responded drily, trying to hide his horror. “What else have you got up your sleeve? Telling me that I’d look pretty with my head chopped off?”

“Shut up, Hiccup.” Dagur narrowed his eyes at him.

“You shut up,” Hiccup retorted. “Actually, you know what? Go sew your mouth shut.”

Dagur growled low in his throat. “I thought you said you’d cooperate.”

“Yeah, but I never said I’d be nice to you.”

Dagur yanked on Hiccup’s hair so hard he almost tore some out. A cry left him and then Dagur was nose-to-nose with him, face contorted with anger.

“You’re going to shut up right now!” he shouted. “You’re not going to say another word!”

Hiccup opened his mouth to protest, but Dagur beat him to it.

“No. Not another word out of you. The only things allowed to come out of that pretty mouth are moans and screams. Got it?”

Hiccup didn’t move or say anything. He didn’t want to give in to him.

Dagur’s voice suddenly rose into a shriek. “ _Do you understand?!_ ”

Frightened by the outburst, Hiccup hurriedly nodded.

Dagur inhaled deeply through his nose, features softening. He stroked his fingers through his hair. “Excellent. Now, you’re going to be a good little whore and suck my dick.”

Hiccup wanted to say no, to shake his head, to hit him, to shout at him not to call him a whore, but instead he just gave a small nod to show that he’d be compliant. 

Dagur grinned in a way that made him shiver. “Good. Get down in front of me on your hands and knees.”

Hiccup shut his eyes as he did so. He was shaking, shame gnawing away at his insides. He’d never expected he’d ever have to do this. Though he hated it, he much preferred Dagur shoving his cock down his throat.

Dagur stroked him under the chin. “Come on, Hiccup, gotta open your eyes.”

He almost told him that he didn’t want to, but then he remembered he wasn’t allowed to speak. The tears he’d been trying so hard to hold back began dripping down his face. He opened his eyes.

Hiccup felt sick at the sight of Dagur’s cock. He’d had that _inside_ of him. He was about to have it inside of him again. He had to put it in his _mouth_. Never in his life had he wanted to see this part of him, but here it was in front of his face. He released a small sob.

“What’s the matter, Hiccup?” Dagur asked even though he wasn’t allowed to answer. He sounded offended. “Don’t like it?”

Hiccup looked up towards him and glared, though the effect was no doubt ruined by the tears.

“You want your leg back or not?”

Choking down a sob, he gave a small nod. He did really want his leg back. He was starting to go crazy without the ability to walk, and having it could help him escape.

“Then quit your crying and put my dick in your mouth,” Dagur growled out, sounding frustrated.

Hiccup lowered his eyes, desperately pleading with his heart to stop beating. He opened his mouth, begged for his lungs to stop working. He held back more sobs, waited a bit to see if he would die. He didn’t. Praying to Thor to send down a bolt of lightning to kill either him or Dagur, he placed his mouth around the head of his cock.

Dagur rested back on his elbows, releasing a sigh. “That’s it, Hiccup. Suck a little. Use your tongue.”

Hiccup felt like he was being torn to pieces by shame and disgust as he did what Dagur told him to. The chief breathed a pleased moan that made Hiccup shudder, began stroking his hair.

He continued giving him orders and Hiccup had no choice but to follow, even when he wanted him to take it all the way in. He was choking and crying, Dagur moaning and murmuring words of encouragement, stroking his hair and his face and the back of his neck.

“Gods, I’m gonna cum soon,” Dagur groaned. “You’re doing such a good job, baby.”

Hiccup cried harder at this. He couldn’t believe he was being forced to give Dagur sexual pleasure and make him climax of his own volition. Even worse was that Dagur had said he wanted to finish in his mouth and have him swallow his seed.

“Almost there, Hiccup.” His voice came out in a whine and he jutted his hips upwards, making Hiccup, who had just been figuring out how to relax his throat, choke again. “Come on. I’m almost there.”

Hiccup pulled his mouth upwards so that he was only sucking at the head, not wanting to have Dagur’s cum shoot straight down his throat. That would only add to his discomfort.

Soon, Dagur shuddered and yelled out a curse, gripped his hair tight, his cock throbbing in his mouth. Hiccup squeezed his eyes shut, whimpered a little in despair, as a hot liquid began to flood his mouth. He tried his best not to taste it, though he kept it there instead of swallowing.

Then it was over and Dagur was using the hold on his hair to pull his head up.

“Oh shit,” Dagur gasped, and Hiccup opened his eyes to look at him. “Good job, Hiccup. Good job.” He hung his head back for a bit, chest heaving. Then he looked back at him. “Did you swallow?”

In answer, Hiccup came close and spit his load right in his face. Dagur didn’t react for a second, just blinking in shock. Then Hiccup was punched in the face so hard that he was spun around and falling onto his stomach, skin splitting across his left cheek. He blinked, stunned by the blow, seeing stars in his vision. He sensed movement. Nothing happened for a while, but then Dagur was on top of him, shoving two fingers in him without any preamble.

Hiccup shouted, thrashing underneath him, trying to get him off. Dagur pushed his head down into the furs so that he couldn’t breathe, and he held him there until he lost the strength to struggle.

His first exhale came out as a pained yell as Dagur roughly forced another finger into him.

“You asked for this, Hiccup!” the chief shouted in anger. “This is your fault! You’re definitely not getting your leg back tonight!” His voice quieted with his next words, tinged with a sadistic satisfaction: “You’ll be screaming instead.”


	34. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Light your torches and get out those pitchforks. I'll just be here waiting for you all to come kill me. Of course, you're all invited to my funeral and I want blue oleander on my grave.

_Heather, it’s very good news that the Berserkers finally have a chief who’s got their head on straight. All of us back here are rooting for you._

_I wish I had good news to share. Things were looking hopeful, but it turned out to just be a giant trick. A Dragon Hunter informed us of Berserker ships near the Iron Isle, so we figured that was probably where Dagur was hiding out. Stoick led an attack on the camp, but it turned out the whole thing had been set up. Dagur wasn’t there. Neither was Hiccup, and none of the soldiers knew where he really is. We don’t have any leads and we’re not sure how we’re going to find him now._

_\- Gobber_

_I wish we could have helped you in the attack. Not that it matters much now, but it would have been good to talk face-to-face. I’ll send out scouts and spies. It should be easier to gather information that way because we look like we’re on the same side._

_Dagur doesn’t know that I’ve claimed the Berserker throne, but it’s still a declaration of war. I’m more than willing to fight him and aid Berk. The council is in agreement, though they aren’t nearly as willing as I am. I would say more, but there are so many little details and I’m too tired to go over them. I don’t even know if they’re useful anyway._

_Write back as soon as you can._

_\- Heather_

_Hey, guys, Ruffnut here. It’s reelly depresing over here and we haven’t made any progres or gotenn any moor clues to where Hiccup could be. Stoick has hardly said a word sinse the Iron Ile. Tuffnut was shot in the sholder, so you won’t be getting any messages from him. Can’t use his rite hand._

_Oh, Astrid, Snotlout wants me to tell you that he misses you and he crys about it a lot. Okay, that was a joke but aparentlly Snotlout didn’t think it was very funny. And he said I hav to work on my speling._

_\- Ruffnut_

_I’m really sorry to hear about Tuffnut. I hope he’s going to be okay. I sent out the scouts but we haven’t gotten anything back yet. Things seem to have really come to a stand still on either end._

_(Also, you really do need to work on your spelling, Ruffnut.)_

_\- Heather_

  
  


Heather flopped down on the bed with a sigh that was both a mix of contentment and exhaustion. She folded her hands over her stomach and looked up at the ceiling.

She had to talk to Astrid, but she wasn’t in the mood to go searching for her. She wasn’t in the mood to do anything really, just sleep, even though sleep brought strange and disturbing dreams. She’d been feeling a little sick for the past two weeks and had been brushing it off, but it had been going on too long. Something was wrong and she didn’t have any idea what it could be. The only person she felt like she could turn to was Astrid.

Astrid had been keeping herself very active, training with the royal guard, going out scouting on Stormfly… The only times they really even saw each other anymore was at night. They would fall asleep mid-conversation either lying close or wrapped in each other’s arms.

So naturally, she was surprised when the door to the room opened and she lifted her head to see that it was Astrid who had entered.

“Hey, you’re back early.”

Astrid closed the door and leaned her axe against the wall. “Yeah, I ran into Hilda and she told me you didn’t look so well.” She came over to the bed and sat beside her. “Everything okay?”

Heather sat up, one of her hands finding Astrid’s almost of its own free will.

“Not really,” she responded. “Astrid, I think something’s wrong. Like, really wrong.”

Astrid shifted closer, expression growing concerned. “What do you mean?”

“Well, um, I was supposed to get my moon’s blood two weeks ago, but I never did.”

Astrid cocked her head in confusion. “Wait, but I thought you did get it.”

“I didn’t tell you that I didn’t because I thought it was just a little late,” Heather answered, worry gnawing at her stomach. “But it’s never been this late before.”

Astrid’s eyes suddenly went big. She opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it again.

“Astrid, what is it? You know what’s wrong?”

“Um… well, I, uh, I wouldn’t necessarily say something’s wrong,” she answered.

That made Heather confused. “What?” She tightened her grip on Astrid’s hand. “What is it?”

Astrid chewed on her bottom lip. Heather searched her eyes to try and understand what was going on, but there were so many emotions there that none of it made sense.

“Are you sure it’s never been this late before? That this isn’t normal for you?” Astrid questioned.

“Yes, I’m sure.” She put her other hand on Astrid’s shoulder. “Now _please_ just tell me. You’re killing me over here. What is it?”

Astrid looked away from her. Heather felt like she wanted to cry out of pure frustration, which was strange for her.

“Gods, I don’t know how to say this,” Astrid said. Then before Heather could once again insist that she tell her, she looked back to her, taking her hand from her shoulder so she was now holding both her hands. Heather’s heart was racing. “I think…” She paused and inhaled deeply. “I think you might be pregnant.”

The entire world seemed to stop. Her breath caught in her throat. She felt as if she’d been hit with a boulder.

“ _Pregnant?_ ” she breathed.

Astrid gave a small nod.

“B-but how?” Heather’s breath quickened with panic. “I don’t… I don’t understand.”

Astrid looked at her strangely for a second before withdrawing one of her hands and slapping it to her forehead. “Ugh, I forgot you probably wouldn’t even know about that stuff.” She sounded stressed now. Heather’s stomach was churning and she was feeling lightheaded.

“Th-then tell me! Wh-what? How?”

“Heather, take a deep breath,” Astrid told her. “You have to calm down.”

Tears pricked in her eyes and calming down seemed impossible, but she just nodded, drew in a shuddering breath through her mouth. Fear like she’d never felt before was running rampant. She’d been in battle, but the rush of fighting was nothing compared to how she was feeling now.

“Okay.” Astrid gave her a small, reassuring smile, holding both of her now-trembling hands again. “Well, uh, sometimes sex between a man and a woman can result in conception of a child. Of course, no one’s ever told you that, but-”

“Wait,” Heather interrupted. “The only person I’ve ever…” She trailed off, eyes going big. She had the sudden urge to stab herself. She looked away from Astrid, towards the wall, but she wasn’t even really seeing it, or anything else for that matter. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She wanted to scream, and then just keep screaming, scream till she had no voice.

_Dagur._

“Heather…”

She pulled herself away from Astrid, standing and turning to face her.

“How do I get rid of it?”

Astrid looked heartbroken. “You… You can’t.”

“How do I get rid of it?!” Heather shrieked, tears coming faster now. “How do I get it out of me?!”

Astrid stood, and Heather took a step away from her when she reached out to touch her shoulder. She didn’t want to be touched right now.

“There has to be a way to get it _out!_ ” Her legs shook and she couldn’t hold herself up anymore. She fell to her knees. “Astrid, tell me how to get it out! Please! _Ple-ease!_ ”

“Heather, there isn’t any way to do that,” Astrid replied softly.

“ _No!_ No, there has to be!” Frantic, Heather searched around the room to see if there was anything that could help her, anything that she could use. Then she caught sight of the knife at Astrid’s belt. She lunged for it, drawing it and then scrambling to her feet, then to the other side of the room before Astrid could stop her.

“Heather, no! Stop it!”

Heather put the blade to her lower abdomen, shaking her head. “No, I have to get it out! I have to!”

“That’ll kill you!” Astrid shouted, coming closer. 

“Fine! I don’t care! I don’t want it! I don’t want his baby!” Though she said it, Heather couldn’t make herself move, couldn’t dig the blade downwards into her own flesh, but she _had_ to. She just had to.

“Heather, please.” Astrid’s voice was gentle as she stepped towards her. Heather was frozen to the spot. “Just give me the knife, okay?”

“I don’t want his baby, Astrid,” she sobbed. She clutched the knife tighter, hand shaking violently.

 _Just do it!_ She mentally shouted at herself. _Just start cutting!_ She wanted to. She wanted to so badly. She pressed down so that the knife sliced through her clothes, but that was all she did. The metal was cold against her skin.

“I know, Heather, I know,” Astrid said empathetically, drawing even closer, her motions cautious. “But we can figure this out, okay? Me and you.” She was close enough now to reach out and touch her, and she did, placing her hand over the one that held the knife.

“You have to help me,” Heather whispered, her strength seeping out of her. “You have to help me, Astrid, please.”

“I will help you,” she told her. Heather had never seen so much sincerity and caring in someone’s eyes before. “I will. Just give me the knife.”

Heather relinquished her hold on it, and once it was in Astrid’s hand, she was on her knees, burying her face in her hands, crying the hardest she had in years. She hadn’t cried like this since her village had been wiped out and her parents had been slaughtered in front of her. She felt like she was being torn to pieces.

Then Astrid was on the floor with her, arms wrapping around her and pulling her up against her. One hand held the back of her head. Dropping her hands, Heather pressed her face into Astrid’s neck. She didn’t know how much time passed like that, with her being held in Astrid’s arms and crying against her; she stopped when there were no tears left, sniffling quietly. She was grateful that Astrid didn’t let go.

“Thank you, Astrid,” she breathed.

“I’m here for you, Heather.” She pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

“Thank you,” she said again. She’d never felt more grateful towards anyone else in her life. She had been about to _kill herself_ , but Astrid had stopped her, had pulled her from that awful place. “I’m sorry. I won’t ever do that again. I promise.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Astrid told her. She was rocking her a little now, gently, and Heather was soothed by it. “I know you can get through this. You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met.”

In someone else’s arms with tears on her face, Heather didn’t feel strong. She felt very far from it.


	35. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very surprised you guys don't want me dead because of the last chapter. Oh well. My funeral has been postponed until further notice, but please hold onto your invitations so I don't have to send them out again.

Hiccup sat at the edge of the cot near the brazier, hunched over and shivering with a towel wrapped around his shoulders. It was damp and he was mostly dry from his bath, but he didn’t feel like removing it. He would have if he could have put his robe on after, but Dagur had taken it away from him as punishment, telling him he’d lost his “clothing privileges.” He could only get it back, along with his prosthetic, if he did what Dagur wanted, and, though he was now left naked, he wasn’t in the mood to try again anytime soon. The incident had only been last night, and he needed more time to mentally and emotionally prepare himself.

It had been awkward around Bryn earlier in the day, but at least he had been able to cover himself with a blanket. Now, he just didn’t feel like moving.

Dagur was at the table fixing drinks for the both of them. It was after dinner, but surprisingly the man hadn’t touched him in any sexual way that evening. It was actually beginning to put him on edge a little.

Dagur came and sat beside him, sliding a large cup into his hand. Then he pulled the towel off of him and wrapped an arm around him with his free hand, pulling him into him. Hiccup made no protest. His body was providing him with heat.

“That better?” Dagur asked.

Hiccup said nothing, instead taking a sip of his drink. It was rich and warm with some kind of spice in it. He’d never tasted anything like it before, but he liked it.

“Mm, what is this?”

“Something special I came up with,” Dagur answered, then took a sip from his own cup. “You like it?”

“Yeah,” Hiccup responded honestly. “It’s really good.”

“Awesome. Drink up, then. It should warm you.”

Hiccup wasn’t about to deny something that would stop his shivering, so he brought the cup back to his lips. Dagur talked while they drank. Hiccup remained quiet, but for once the Berserker didn’t seem to mind.

“So one of my spies brought me news that Heather’s gone to Berzerk and claimed the throne,” Dagur said. He sounded amused for some reason. Hiccup was pleasantly surprised with this information, but also concerned. Dagur having spies meant that Heather would have people secretly working against her. “Well, at least she _thinks_ she’s claimed the throne. It’s kind of cute, really.” He took another drink. “Though, it is an act of war. Pity. I wanted to be able to take you home without any fuss after all this shit with Berk blows over. And it’s not like I want to fight Heather. Maybe we’ll be able to talk it out and then the three of us can fuck to our hearts’ desires.”

Hiccup scrunched up his face at this. He didn’t blame or judge Heather for her past relationship with Dagur, but he really didn’t need the man to be talking about it. Nor did he want to hear him fantasize about him getting involved. Hiccup didn’t feel that way towards either of the Berserker siblings, though what he did feel towards each was vastly different.

“What?” Dagur asked, having noticed the look on his face. “Want me all to yourself?”

Hiccup scoffed. “No! I think you’re disgusting and I don’t want to hear you talk about screwing your sister.”

“But, Hiccup, have you _seen_ her? She’s _really_ hot.” He cringed as Dagur leaned close and brushed his lips against his ear. “Not as hot as you though, babe. Don’t worry.”

Hiccup wanted to shout and hit him, but he didn’t do either. He just took another sip from his cup. Noticing that it was almost empty, he just downed the rest of it. He’d stopped shivering a little while ago and was feeling pleasantly warm from both the drink and Dagur’s body heat, though, he hated to admit the latter. He wasn’t very happy that he’d finished though. Once Dagur was done with his own he’d want sex.

He expected to feel nervous when Dagur took the cup from his hand and then went to put both on the table, but he didn’t. He was actually feeling pretty relaxed. He figured that there had probably been alcohol in the drink, which he was just fine with. He’d gotten drunk a few times pretty recently to help him through his rape.

“Hiccup, could you lay down on your stomach for me?” Dagur asked as he came back over.

 _Hold on, he’s actually_ asking _me to do something?_

“Why would I do that?”

“I don’t plan on fucking you just yet,” Dagur said with a roll of his eyes. “Lay down.”

“Okay…” Hiccup was a little confused. What did Dagur have in mind? He did what he was told though, not asking anymore questions.

He tensed a little when Dagur straddled him, but relaxed again when he started kneading his thumbs into his shoulders. He grunted a little, surprised that Dagur was giving him a massage.

“Damn, babe, you got some serious knots in here,” Dagur commented. Hiccup decided to keep his sassy remark about that being his fault to himself. He should just let himself enjoy this.

Dagur worked methodically to get the knots out of his shoulders before moving up to his neck. Hiccup hummed in contentment, feeling extremely relaxed. He would have dozed off if not for the strange energy he was beginning to feel. He hadn’t felt this good in a while.

“That feel good?”

“Mmm, yeah.”

“Excellent.”

“But why are you doing this?” Hiccup asked, still confused about the whole thing.

“Because I want to make my Hiccup feel good,” Dagur responded. “My beautiful Hiccup.”

Hiccup frowned a little, but didn’t say anything. There was no point in arguing with Dagur not to use the possessive, especially since he would be incorrect in saying that he wasn’t his.

He let his thoughts drift away into a haze as the massage continued. He felt lighter somehow, and when he closed his eyes it almost felt like he was floating.

A part of him began trying to tell him that something was wrong, but that seemed ridiculous. How could something be wrong when he felt this good? This was the complete opposite of wrong.

Dagur spoke to him, but he didn’t really listen, just made little sounds of agreement here and there. He’d never felt this comforted from the chief’s touch before, had never even thought it was possible to.

Dagur actually moved down to massage his legs once he finished with his neck and his back, and Hiccup was grateful for it. He hadn’t even realized how much tension he’d had in them.

“Thank you,” he found himself saying. As he said it, the sense of wrongness grew, something in his head screaming at him that this wasn’t right. There was a pit forming in his stomach.

“Dagur, what was in that drink?” Hiccup asked, words coming out slower than he’d wanted them to.

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Dagur responded nonchalantly. “Flavored it with nutmeg. Why?”

“I just… feel strange.”

“Bad strange or good strange?”

“Good, I guess,” Hiccup answered, though he still felt worried.

“Then you’ve got nothing to worry about,” Dagur told him. “You’re just not used to feeling relaxed anymore.”

That seemed pretty reasonable, so Hiccup dropped it. He hadn’t felt relaxed in weeks.

They both fell into a comfortable silence as Dagur continued working out the knots in his legs. Hiccup even let him touch his stump with no protest. Once he was finished, he laid down beside him and began stroking his fingers over his back. Hiccup wondered why he wasn’t making any sexual advances yet, but he didn’t bring it up. Why risk making it happen sooner?

Hiccup just laid there with his eyes closed and let Dagur caress him. He didn’t mind the touching. In fact, he even liked it. He wondered if maybe the man would just let him fall asleep, but at the same time, he didn’t feel like he could sleep. He was energized and relaxed all at once, the feelings creating a pleasant buzz in his body. There was still the sense that something was terribly wrong here, but it was being pushed down and he couldn’t reach for it to try to figure it out even if he tried. All he wanted to do was lay there, uncaring about the passing of time. 

“How are you feeling, Hiccup?” Dagur inquired, still stroking his back.

He smiled lazily in answer, but then realized his head was turned away from him. “Reeally goood…” he drawled out. Then he giggled for some reason, like his brain secretly found something amusing and was refusing to tell him what it was.

Whatever it was grew even more amusing, and Hiccup had the urge to laugh, so he did. He rolled onto his back, still laughing. The sound was foreign even to himself - he hadn’t laughed in such a long time. He couldn’t remember the last time he had. 

The sense of wrongness had completely disappeared and he was forgetting that it had even been there in the first place. Nothing was wrong at all. He kept laughing.

 

Dagur sat up to look at Hiccup when he rolled onto his back and started laughing. He’d never heard it before and it was a lovely sound. His Hiccup was also smiling with his mouth open, and he realized that he’d never seen that either. They had known each other for such a long time, but Dagur had _never_ seen him smile and laugh. It was a beautiful thing; he watched him closely, trying to ingrain every bit of his expression and the sound of his laughter permanently into his memory.

He was glad he was laughing. He had begun growing impatient for when that would start. It had been almost four hours now since he’d given Hiccup the drink, but he doubted that he knew that. He’d been told that one of the effects of nutmeg was a distortion in time.

Dagur hadn’t even been lying to him when he’d told him that he hadn’t put anything out of the ordinary in his drink. Nutmeg was perfectly ordinary, but give someone enough of it and it would work like one of the most powerful drugs out there. The only thing he didn’t like was how long it took to set in.

“My Hiccup, what’s so funny?” Dagur asked, going along with it.

“I don’t even know!” Hiccup cried. He clutched at his stomach, his laughter climbing into a shriek. Gods, he really did look beautiful like that, the firelight making shadows dance across his body. Dagur just wanted to have his way with him right then and there, but he told himself to be patient. It would be better for the both of them once the hilarity passed. He’d just have to wait.

 

Hiccup didn’t know how long he laughed for, or even what he was laughing at, but he didn’t care. He didn’t stop until his abdomen was aching and there were tears in his eyes. Gasping for breath, he looked at Dagur and gave him a wide smile.

“Laughing fit over?” the man questioned.

Hiccup giggled once more, but then nodded. “Think… Think so.” He giggled again. He was feeling absolutely excellent, and it was like all his senses had sharpened.

Dagur ran a hand over his abdomen and Hiccup gasped and arched into it a little, skin tingling.

“You like that?”

“Yeah,” Hiccup breathed. He liked it quite a lot in fact, and though Dagur had hardly touched him, he was beginning to feel aroused.

“You want me to touch you?” Dagur asked this while climbing on top of him, and excitement fluttered in his belly.

Hiccup hurriedly nodded. He did. He really did.

“No. Tell me.”

“I want you to touch me, Dagur.” The words were practically a moan. 

His statement was rewarded with two hands running over his body, and then Dagur was leaning over him, his breath filling his nostrils. He kissed him, the action sending sparks straight down to Hiccup’s groin. He kissed back because, well, why wouldn't he? Why wouldn't he kiss Dagur back when he was making him feel this good?

One of Dagur's hands trailed down between them, taking ahold of his aching cock. Hiccup released a moan into the chief’s mouth and he found himself grasping at his arms. He didn't remember his touch ever feeling this good before.

Dagur kissed him passionately as he slowly stroked him, delving his tongue into his mouth. Hiccup rolled his hips into his touch to show that he liked it, that he wanted more. 

He was disappointed for a moment when Dagur's mouth left his, but that quickly vanished when his lips were at the side of his neck. Hiccup gave a cry and tilted his head back to bare his throat to him. He couldn't stop making sounds of pleasure. Everything just felt so _good._

Dagur took his time kissing and sucking at his throat and Hiccup loved every second of it. He whined a little when he stopped and straightened on top of him, his hand leaving his cock as well. He gave him a pleading look, but then suddenly he couldn’t see, a cloth going to cover his eyes.

Hiccup laughed a little. “Dagur, what are you doing?”

“We’re gonna play a game, okay?” He’d tied the cloth in the back of his head. 

“Ooh, what kind of game?” Hiccup questioned eagerly.

“I try to see how many times I can make you cum.”

His excitement and arousal heightened at this, burning inside of him.

“And what do I do?”

“You do whatever I say. Easy, right?”

“Easy.”

 

Though Dagur had known that the nutmeg would make Hiccup compliant, he was astonished by how well it was working. He’d actually said _yes_. He wasn't fighting at all. He _wanted_ it. He’d _told_ him so.

Dagur wished that he didn't have to blindfold him, but it was likely he would have visual hallucinations if he could see and he didn't want them to scare him. He wanted his Hiccup to enjoy every moment of this.

“ _Yes_ ,” Hiccup gasped out as Dagur began pumping his cock again, his other hand reaching to pinch at his right nipple. His hips lifted towards him and a moan parted his lips; Dagur had never been more turned on in his life.

Hiccup lost his grip on him as he increased the vigor of his strokes, twisted his nipple. He was being much louder than usual, which Dagur thought was excellent, seeing as he was already loud to begin with. His guards would definitely be able to hear, and that made him grin. He got off on the knowledge that others could hear what he was doing to his lover.

The nutmeg had increased Hiccup’s sensitivity, so it wasn’t long before he was climaxing. He writhed underneath him in the most delicious way, releasing his voice in cries and yelps. Dagur was tempted to over stimulate him, but he decided against it. Drugged or not, Hiccup wouldn’t trust him for the rest of the night if he did that. So, once he was finished, he released his cock, stroking his other hand over his heaving chest.

“Was that good, Hiccup?”

He nodded. “Really, really good.”

“You want more?”

“Yes.”

“Ah-ah, what’s the magic word?” Dagur couldn’t help toying around with him like this. 

“Please?” Hiccup asked, sounding unsure if that was the correct word or not.

“Good boy.” Dagur flicked one of his nipples and Hiccup gasped and arched. “But you have to do something for me first, okay? That’s how we play this game.”

Hiccup smiled. The expression was so beautiful it created a real pain in Dagur’s chest. He felt honored to finally see it.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Excellent. Now just give me a minute.”

Dagur climbed off of Hiccup and hurriedly undressed. Then he positioned himself over him again, getting on all fours to lick up the cum on his stomach. Hiccup actually moaned at the action, and Dagur could feel him already becoming hard again, his erection pressing against his chest. 

Once finished with that, Dagur moved up his body to straddle his chest. He took Hiccup’s hands and placed them on his thighs, longing for him to touch him. Then he took his face in both hands, lifting his head a little. His cock quivered slightly in anticipation.

“Hiccup, open your mouth,” he ordered softly.

His Dragon Rider did so without any question or hesitation, and Dagur moved his hips forward, placing his length inside. He closed his eyes at the sensation and Hiccup made a little grunting noise around him. He tightened his hold on his thighs, but didn’t try shoving him away.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Dagur breathed. He moved into him slowly, not wanting to startle him. He kept himself there once he was fully sheathed, groaned at the feeling of Hiccup’s throat convulsing around him. The movement stopped after a little bit, meaning he’d relaxed, and Dagur looked down at him. He was absolutely stunning with his cock in his throat and his hands clutching his thighs.

“Mm, baby you look excellent like this.” Dagur began slowly thrusting himself in and out, loving the obscene sounds that would come from Hiccup’s throat when he pressed back in. His nails dug into his thighs.

Dagur didn’t pull away till he’d worked himself up to the edge of his climax. It took a massive amount of control to keep himself from just finishing with his hand and cumming on Hiccup’s beautiful face. That was something he’d always wanted to do, but not tonight.

“You like having my dick in your mouth,” he told him, just because he could. It wasn’t a question, but the drugs made Hiccup nod in agreement.

 _Oh, this is awesome. I’m gonna have to use this again._

Of course, making Hiccup take the drug a second time wouldn’t be as easy as it had this time. One of its perks was also a downside: he would remember absolutely everything that happened while under the influence of it and he wouldn’t black out. Dagur was elated that Hiccup would remember the experience, though he would realize that he’d been drugged when he came out of it. Dagur would just have to fight him, but the end result would be well worth it.

 

Hiccup hadn’t really minded having Dagur’s cock in his throat. His part in the game was to do whatever he was told, and he was willing to play. 

The chief had moved off of him again and Hiccup’s heart raced with anticipation. It was an interesting thing to have his sight taken from him, and he was discovering that it heightened the experience.

He jumped a little when he felt Dagur’s hand on his thigh.

“My beautiful Hiccup,” he said. “So beautiful.” Hiccup beamed at the praise. “Open your legs for me, darling. Nice and wide.”

Hiccup eagerly complied, and then he felt Dagur’s other hand delving between his legs. He groaned as two oiled fingers pressed at his hole.

“You like that, baby?”

“Yeah,” he answered, shifting to press himself against his hand. Then suddenly there was another hand wrapping around his cock, stroking gently. “Oh dear gods,” he breathed, clutching at the fur beneath him. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this good before. His nerves were on fire.

Dagur teased circles around his hole, drawing a needy whine out of him.

“Dagur, _please_ ,” Hiccup moaned. His slow ministrations were driving him crazy with lust.

“Please what?” There was a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Please, just…” Hiccup didn’t know how to phrase what he wanted. He moaned again.

“Tell me what you want, Hiccup.”

“I-I don’t even – I just…” It was difficult for him to think. Why was Dagur tormenting him like this? “Just put your hand in me!”

“My whole hand?”

“No, no, I don’t… I don’t know. Just _please_ , Dagur, _please_.” He felt like he was going to lose his mind if he didn’t do something soon.

Dagur pushed two of his fingers into him and Hiccup gave a pleased cry, jutting his hips upwards as he slid them in to the last joint. Then they curled, pressing against that bundle of nerves inside of him, those absolutely lovely nerves that sent fire racing through every inch of him.

“Is this what you want, my precious Hiccup?”

“Yes!” he shouted. “Oh, yes, Dagur! Yes!”

Hiccup cried out when Dagur started massaging that spot. He’d forgotten the name of it, but that didn’t matter at the moment. All that mattered was that this was the best thing he’d ever felt in his life. Then it got even better, Dagur stroking his length harder and twisting his hand around the head.

He couldn’t stay still or quiet with all these sensations raging through him. He arched and twisted and writhed, crying out with each labored breath.

“Yeah, Hiccup, yeah.” Dagur’s voice was rough.

Hiccup saw no point to holding back his screams when the pleasure reached its peak. Dagur was still working at him with both hands and he thought he was going to die.

Then it ended, and he suffered one more agonizing moment of Dagur’s touch, before being free from that as well. He went limp, breathing hard. He didn’t think he could move even if he wanted to.

He was given no reprieve, and really, he didn’t mind. Dagur was lifting his legs and then his cock was sliding past his entrance. He moaned loudly, body trembling slightly. The pleasure was too good, but he would endure it. He _wanted_ to endure it.

 

Dagur didn’t go easy on Hiccup once he entered him. Making him cum a second time had driven him crazy, so he didn’t hold anything back. He couldn’t. 

He pounded him relentlessly, and his screams were like music to his ears. He didn’t know whether or not he was hurting him, but at the moment he didn’t care. He was almost mad at him for being so damn irresistible.

“Shit, it’s your fault I like you so much!” Dagur yelled. Who else was he to blame for his infatuation than the subject of it? It was Hiccup’s fault. He was just too _perfect_. It was frustrating. It was _beyond_ frustrating.

Hiccup didn’t respond. He probably couldn’t. That was just fine. Dagur didn’t need him to respond.

He’d wanted to get Hiccup to ride him at some point that night, but he doubted he could move very effectively. He was limp and shaking underneath him, a result of the drug and the pleasure. It seemed he’d reached the truly inebriating stage of it.

Dagur lasted much longer than he expected to at this pace, and he yelled out curses once he finally did orgasm, driving himself into Hiccup as far as he could go. Hiccup’s body responded in kind and a lovely bellow rose from his throat. Muscles contracted and relaxed, and then there was silence save for their labored breathing and the crackling and popping of the fire.

 

Hiccup couldn’t move and he was just fine with that. Dagur had cleaned them both off and then removed the blindfold, then tucked him under the furs before climbing in beside him and holding his tingling body against his own. Hiccup had his eyes open, staring transfixed at the fire in the brazier. The flames looked like people dancing, and every once in a while he’d spot a dragon shooting by. He’d try to follow it, but it would disappear, swallowed up by the breathing darkness. He couldn’t feel it, but it looked like the ground was rolling like gentle waves. The entire world moved around him, inhaling and exhaling, twisting and turning and undulating. He was completely enraptured by it.

“Hiccup, tell me you love me.” Dagur’s voice, vibrating as a whisper in his ear.

“I love you,” he said slowly, mouth not eager to respond to his commands.

Dagur purred in his ear, held him tighter. “Say it again.”

“I love you.” 

A Terrible Terror formed in the fire, bigger than was normal, and it began to dance with the people. Hiccup was glad that it wasn’t flying away like the other dragons.

“And again.”

“I love you.”

The Terrible Terror was standing on two legs now, and it had a dancing partner: a Night Fury. They moved and hopped in circles.

“Again.”

“I love you.”

The Terrible Terror was claimed by the darkness, snatched up by its hand, leaving the Night Fury alone. It settled on all fours, turned to look at him.

“One more time.”

The Night Fury spread its wings and vanished into the night.

“I love you.”


	36. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back with another chapter! This took longer than originally planned, as I got kind of discouraged from a few hateful reviews and comments on the last chapter. So, haters, if for some reason you're reading this, just get the hell out. No one's making you read this. You're not obligated to read it. If you don't like it, just leave, and don't bother saying anything. You can't stop me from writing this. I've had this story planned for about a year now and there's no way in hell I'm going to stop until I finish. You may not like it, but there are people that do, and I appreciate them very much.

Hiccup had a very strange dream. It was strange because it wasn’t anything like him. In the dream, he was letting Dagur do whatever he wanted with him. He was _enjoying_ it and begging for _more_. He was doing whatever he told him to. It ended, horrifically, with him telling Dagur that he loved him.

He woke up, the dream fresh in his mind. He tried to move but his limbs wouldn’t listen to him. There were hands touching him, a voice in his ear.

“Dagur, get… off…” he complained. His tongue felt thick in his mouth, like he’d been drinking.

“That’s not what you were saying last night.”

“Wha…?”

Then it hit him. That _hadn’t_ been a dream. That had been _real._

Hiccup groaned. First he felt sick. Then shame hit him; humiliation, anger, but it was like the emotions were buried and covered in a thick veil of smoke.

He didn’t hear anything Dagur said, though he was acutely aware of what he was doing to him, his nerves extra sensitive. He couldn’t move to stop him and he didn’t know how to form the word ‘no.’ He just laid there drowning in despair.

Dagur had drugged him.

He didn’t know why that surprised him, why that hurt him so badly. He should have expected it. He should have _known._

Hiccup was glad he was on his stomach, because it meant that Dagur couldn’t see his tears.

 

Gobber entered Hiccup’s hut without knocking, the door retracting upwards. Stoick had holed himself up in there for the past two weeks, leaving the duties of chief to himself and Spitelout. Gobber was sick of it.

It was dark inside, not a single candle or lantern lit. He hadn’t even closed the door when he heard Stoick’s voice from the loft:

“Go.”

It wasn’t strong and loud like Gobber was used to, but it still held the same level of command.

Gobber pointedly shut the door louder than was necessary. He wasn’t leaving unless Stoick was coming out of here with him.

“Stoick-”

“I said go.” His voice sounded weak and broken.

“You can’t just stay in here forever,” Gobber said, approaching the stairs. If Stoick wasn’t coming down, he was going up.

“I don’t plan to.”

“Then come on out.”

No response.

“Alright then,” Gobber told him. “I’m coming up.”

Stoick didn’t say anything as Gobber ascended the stairs. He found him sitting on his own bed, facing Hiccup’s and staring. He was just a dark mass, features indiscernible without any light.

 _He needs his own hut if we’re going to be staying here any longer_ , Gobber realized. Stoick sleeping in the same place that Hiccup should have been wasn’t good for him.

“Stoick, you have to get out there and do something,” Gobber began. “He’s still out there somewhere.”

Nothing. Gobber waited, but his friend didn’t say a word, didn’t turn to look at him. He’d never seen him like this before, and though it saddened him, it also frustrated him.

“You’re the chief for Thor’s sake!” Gobber exclaimed. “And recently you haven’t been doing a very good job of it!”

“Get out, Gobber.” There was no anger in his voice; only defeat. He still didn’t look at him.

“Not until you get off your arse!” he countered. “There are things to do! You can’t just go shutting yourself away from everyone when we’re in the middle of a war and Hiccup is in the hands of that bloody maniac!”

Silence.

“Stoick!” Gobber couldn’t stand this. He had to get Stoick to actually do something.

“You want to know what I found on the Iron Isle?” Stoick asked softly.

Gobber was taken aback by the question, hadn’t expected it. “Stoick, this isn’t-”

“You know what I found, Gobber?” he continued. “I found his… I found his clothes.” The statement was utterly heartbroken.

Gobber staggered back a step, feeling as if he’d been punched. “ _What?_ ”

“Dagur left his clothes for me,” Stoick reiterated. He finally turned to him, and though Gobber couldn’t see his face in the dark, he knew there were tears. “He left Hiccup’s clothes for me to find.”

Gobber didn’t know what to say to this. His heart sank and his strength seeped out of him. He didn’t know how he was still standing.

“How can someone be that cruel?” The tears were obvious in Stoick’s words. “That evil?”

Gobber sat down heavily beside him. He had no answer for that, as he was asking himself the same thing.

_Dagur’s a monster._

Neither of them said anything for a moment. Gobber wasn’t even sure _what_ to say.

“That’s why we have to go save him,” Gobber said gently.

“ _How?_ ” Stoick asked, voice laden with hopelessness and desperation. “ _How_ do we do that? We don’t know where he _is_ , Gobber. We don’t have any leads. Dagur’s screwed us over.”

“Then we just go out and look,” Gobber told him, placing his hand on his knee. “We search to the ends of the Earth.”

Stoick didn’t say anything for a while. When he did, he spoke words that Gobber hadn’t ever heard from him, not even as a child:

“I’m scared.”

Gobber was stunned. Being his best friend, he could usually tell when Stoick was scared, and now was definitely one of those times, but he’d never actually told him that, never said it out loud. Almost fifty years of life and it was the first time he’d admitted to feeling fear.

“I’m scared for him, Gobber.”

“Aye, Stoick. So am I.”

Stoick drew in a deep breath, stood. “Alright. Now, what places have been checked already?”

 

Bryn entered the tent with Hiccup’s dinner, glad that she was only bringing his and not Dagur’s. That meant she’d be able to spend time with him. She hadn’t seen him all day. He’d promised a few days ago to show her his drawings, but he hadn’t gotten around to it, telling her he’d have to work himself up to it, that there were a lot of emotions involved with it.

She was startled to find him laying naked on his stomach, the blankets and furs in a disarray around him. His eyes were half-open, gaze directed at the floor.

“Uh, Hiccup?” Bryn went over and put the tray on the table. Something was strange here.

“Hnnn,” he responded, eyes flitting to her. On the surface they almost looked blank, but there was a desperation hidden underneath that.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, coming over to pull the blankets over him. She couldn’t help noticing the bruises on his hips and waist, some of which looked all too much like hands. She was grateful when she had him covered, her face having gone red from embarrassment.

“Dru…” His voice sounded strange, like he was having trouble making it come out of his mouth. He mumbled something.

“What?”

“Drugged…” Hiccup answered. “Drugged… me… Dagur…” There were tears forming in his eyes. He fell silent, giving her a pleading look. Problem was, Bryn had no idea how to help him. She was shocked and hurt by this news. Hiccup didn’t deserve any of this.

“Hiccup, I don’t know how to help you,” she admitted. It was horrible to see him like this, to see what her own chief had done. She had known he was cruel, but with Hiccup he was showing a level of it she hadn’t known he had.

Hiccup groaned and closed his eyes, then turned and buried his face in the pillow. Bryn was at a loss of what to do.

“Um, I have your dinner. Are you hungry?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you sit up on your own or do you need help?”

“He-help…”

Neither of them moved. Bryn was waiting for Hiccup to roll onto his back, but he just laid there.

“Hiccup, can you move?” She was frightened seeing him like this, incapacitated and hardly able to speak. She was wondering how long the effects were supposed to last, when Dagur had drugged him and what he had even given him.

“Lil bit,” he slurred out. “Why?”

“Um, you need to be on your back so I can help you sit up,” Bryn answered. Apparently his thinking had been impaired as well.

“Mm.” Hiccup very slowly rolled onto his back, opening his eyes again. He was giving her a perplexed look.

“What is it?”

“Make your hair… ssstop moving,” Hiccup said. “Moving like-” He lifted his hands and slowly wiggled his fingers to demonstrate.

Bryn was stunned. This was nothing like the Hiccup she was used to. His mind, his speech, and mobility had been compromised by whatever it was the chief had given him. She was disturbed, a sense of wrongness in her gut.

“Hiccup, I think you’re hallucinating,” Bryn said gently.

“Mmmaybe, yeah.” He squinted at her, then gave a slow nod.

“Okay, let’s get you sitting up,” Bryn said, sliding her hand under his back. Hiccup flinched at the contact and she abruptly drew back. “Sorry! Are you hurt?”

“No…”

“Then what’s wrong?” Bryn felt bad asking him all these questions knowing that he could hardly answer, but half an answer was still better than none at all.

“Don’t wanna…” Hiccup paused and furrowed his brow, looking frustrated and helpless all at once. “Don’t… Touch… Me…”

Bryn’s heart practically broke at the way he said those words. He sounded desperate and frightened and confused.

“Then how are you going to sit up and eat?” she reasoned. She didn’t really want to push him, and she couldn’t pretend to understand why he suddenly didn’t want her to touch him, but he needed to eat.

Hiccup closed his eyes, face tightening in deep thought. He didn’t move or speak for almost a whole minute, but Bryn just waited patiently. She didn’t plan on leaving if there was someway she could help him.

“O…kay…” Hiccup enunciated slowly, opening his eyes.

Bryn gave him a sympathetic smile. “Sorry, Hiccup. Just trying to help you.” She slid her hand under his back again. He didn't flinch away, but he did grimace in discomfort. It was hard to get him sitting up: he was practically dead weight, and he nearly flopped over forwards once he was upright. She placed her hand on his shoulder to steady him.

“Think you can stay like that on your own?”

Hiccup nodded, not looking at her. He tugged at one of the blankets, wrapped it around his waist to cover himself. Bryn couldn't believe that the chief had taken away his clothing as punishment. It was inhumane! Hiccup hadn't told her what he'd done to make the chief so angry when she'd asked about it the day before, had instead made some joke, as was usual for him when the topic of conversation was on what was happening to him. Bryn had an awful curiosity about it. She knew that she'd be disturbed if she ever knew all the details, but that didn't stop her from wondering.

“Okay, um…” Bryn paused, pursing her lips together. She realized that she'd probably have to feed him.

_Oh gods, poor Hiccup._

“Are you able to eat on your own?”

Hiccup raised his hands to look at them. He very slowly curled and uncurled his fingers, sucking in his bottom lip with his eyebrows drawn down in concentration. Then he took turns moving each finger individually. Bryn just waited patiently, letting him test his mobility.

Hiccup then brought his left index finger to his nose. Or, that's what it seemed he’d tried to do. He’d missed and poked his cheek instead. He tried again with the same result. Frowning, he attempted to touch his fingers together, but missed. 

He seemed to have gotten lost in his self appointed test, so Bryn gently said his name. He looked to her, dropping his hands.

“No.” The word was despairing and he looked embarrassed, humiliated even. Seeing Hiccup like this made Bryn want to cry. It wouldn't be the first time she’d cried for him, but she’d do it when she was alone.

“It’s okay,” she said, even though it wasn’t and they both knew it. “I can help you. Don’t worry about it.” She went over to the table and got the tray, and when she returned she tried to ignore the tears that were forming in Hiccup’s eyes.

“Thir...sty…” he slurred out, pointing at the cup. Bryn picked it up, was going to lift it to his lips, but he was staring down into it skeptically.

“It’s just water,” she assured him.

“Sure?”

“Well, if it tastes funny you can just spit it out,” Bryn told him, though she knew he wouldn’t have to. There was definitely nothing in it for him to worry about.

Hiccup gave a small nod, then let her help him drink. There was a look of relief on his face after the first sip proved to be ordinary.

Bryn didn’t say anything as she fed Hiccup, and Hiccup really couldn’t, so they were left in silence. Hiccup kept having to blink back tears, though some still brimmed over and spilled down his cheeks. Seeing her friend like this was making Bryn’s chest ache.

Once Hiccup was finished eating, she gathered up the tray and stood.

“So, do you want me to stay, or-”

She stopped talking as the chief suddenly entered the tent, hoping that he hadn’t heard her speak. She instantly lowered her head and did everything possible to make herself seem smaller, a shock of fear going through her.

“Get out, slave.”

Bryn bowed. The chief had already thankfully dismissed her presence, brushing past her and going to Hiccup. Curious, she glanced over her shoulder as she went to leave, just in time to see the chief lean over, grab the back of Hiccup’s head and pull him into a kiss. He had his eyes squeezed shut, face scrunched in disgust. She prayed for Thor to help him, something she did - it seemed in vain - on a daily basis, and then left.

 

  
Hiccup hated how Dagur just so casually stuck his hand between his legs like it was supposed to be there. He grunted at the sensation that sparked through him, his nerves still sensitized from whatever drug he’d been given. That’s why he hadn’t liked it when Bryn had touched him - he’d liked it _too_ much.

“Sssstop,” he groaned despairingly.

Dagur, as usual, ignored him. “Huh, already a little hard. Excited for me to get back? I wasn’t even gone that long!”

“ _No…_ ” Hiccup tried grabbing his wrist, but he fumbled and couldn’t get a grip. Dagur laughed at him, which did nothing to help the frustration he was feeling. He almost started sobbing. _Why_ was he still like this? How long did the effects last? He wanted to ask, but he couldn’t hope to make his mouth form something so complicated.

Dagur shoved him down onto his back with a hand on his chest. He tried to fight him - he really did - but his body just wouldn't _listen_ to him. He was trapped inside of it, and he still couldn't even think straight. This was so much worse than being tied up.

Hiccup had no choice but to let Dagur do what he wanted with him. He moaned and cried throughout it; it was excellent and awful all at once and he wanted nothing more than to stab himself and dig the shame out of his stomach. All he wished for was to die. He wasn't asking too much, was he?

Afterwards, Dagur curled up with him, and he was caressing his back and singing softly to him. Hiccup didn't even comprehend the words, hated to admit that the Berserker actually had a decent singing voice. He closed his eyes. If he couldn't die, the least he could do was sleep. His nightmares had stopped coming, his subconscious finally learning that they did nothing but create an even worse horror when he woke: being “comforted” by none other than the subject of the nightmare. Now, when he slept, he hardly dreamt at all, and he was perfectly fine with that. Any happy dreams he had just saddened him upon awakening.

He slipped into unconsciousness with Dagur kissing his ear and telling him that everything was okay.


	37. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kind comments on the last chapter! They were great to read and very uplifting! Now, the next installment of sin!

“Hiccup, you should eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Then at least drink something.”

“No.” Hiccup turned his head away, crossed his arms in a show of stubbornness. Bryn was trying to get him to eat lunch, (he’d slept through breakfast again, which he did almost every day now), but he was suspicious and refusing to eat or drink anything.

“There’s nothing in it,” Bryn told him.

He didn’t look at her. “You sure?”

“Hiccup, I wouldn’t ever try to drug you, okay?” Her voice was gentle, but he could tell she was getting frustrated.

“I know that,” Hiccup responded. “I’m not worried about you.” He knew he seemed paranoid, but he couldn’t risk being drugged again. The effects of whatever it was Dagur had given him had lasted almost up to that very morning – two whole days of barely being able to move, think, or speak. And all the while as he’d lain there, memories of that night had played on a maddening loop in his head. He remembered every second of it: how he’d begged for Dagur to touch him, how he’d liked it, how he’d said he loved him. Hiccup was left feeling a level of violation he didn’t even know had been possible. Not only had his body been taken from him – his mind had been too.

“There’s nothing in it,” she repeated.

“Oh, how do you know? Did you make it yourself?”

“No, but-”

“I’m not eating it,” Hiccup said forcefully, looking back to her. “And I’m not drinking anything either. You can’t make me.” That last statement sounded childish, but  
Hiccup felt the need to say it. He would only do something if he wanted to. He was sick of his free will being taken away from him.

Bryn sighed, shoulders drooping. “You can’t keep that up forever though.”

Hiccup lowered his arms. “I don’t have to.”

“What do you-?” Bryn began to ask, but then paused, eyes widening a little. “Wait, Hiccup, you can’t mean…” She just trailed off, looking at a loss.

Hiccup turned his head away again. He was finding it difficult to keep eye contact, especially with what the argument had turned into. 

He wanted to die. The wish was a black thing inside of him that grew day by day, and being drugged had made it grow so large that there was hardly room for anything else inside him. There certainly wasn’t hope. He’d had that before, but the drug had eaten whatever hope he’d had left.

“I do,” he said quietly, surprised that his voice didn’t shake. He wasn’t feeling scared or despairing at the moment, determined rather. “I do mean it like that.”

There was a long silence, and Hiccup was considering just asking Bryn to leave, but then he felt her hand over his. He glanced at her, a little surprised by the touch. The heartbreak in her eyes nearly made him change his mind and reach for the tray that sat beside him.

“Hiccup, you’re my only friend.” Her voice was quiet, as if anything louder would make the silent tears in her eyes turn to sobs. “Please.” She didn’t have to continue. It was all on her face. _“Please eat. Please drink something. Please don’t let yourself die. Please don’t kill yourself.”_

“I’m sorry.” Hiccup didn’t fully know what he was apologizing for. Was he apologizing because he saw her pain but was going to do it regardless? Or was he apologizing for considering such a course of action? He felt his resolve crumbling. 

He was a little stunned when he felt Bryn’s fingers curl under his palm, then give his hand a squeeze. He wasn’t used to such an innocent touch, and he found himself looking down and studying their hands.

“Hiccup, please.”

“I, uh…” He didn’t know what to stay, still baffled by the touch for some reason. Her hand was quite a lot smaller than his, slightly roughened from work. It reminded him a little of Astrid’s. Finally, he drew his eyes away, meeting Bryn’s gaze once again. “Y-you’re right, Bryn. I won’t do it. I have to get out of here, but that’s not the way to do it.”

Bryn’s grip loosened, expression flooding with relief. “Does this mean you’ll eat then?”

“Um…” Hiccup didn’t know. He gave the food a skeptical glance before shaking his head. He couldn’t do it. Not yet, anyway. “I-I can’t. No. I can’t drink anything either.”

“But, Hiccup, you’re just contradicting yourself.”

“Yeah, maybe.” He looked down at Bryn’s hand again, thinking of Astrid. Gods he missed her. He missed everyone. 

Bryn didn’t say anything. She made a little motion with her hand to prompt for him to flip his over to show his palm. He did, and she began tracing imaginary lines and circles over his skin. He let her. It felt good in such an innocent way. He’d missed touches like this.

“I’m confused, Bryn,” Hiccup admitted. “I don’t really know what I’m feeling. I don’t know what I want. I have to get out of here but… what’s the point?”

“What do you mean? Of course there’s a point. The chief wouldn’t be hurting you anymore.”

Hiccup’s confusion just grew at this. She was right, obviously, but there were so many other things involved. He directed his eyes to the brand on his chest. Most of the scabs were gone, leaving the shape of the Skrill more clearly in his skin. No one would want him with that there. Just the brand alone made him worth nothing to anybody else, never mind that he’d been raped again and again and was tainted from the inside out.

But then he thought of Toothless. Toothless wouldn’t care. Toothless wouldn’t judge him. He’d just be happy to have him back. There wouldn’t be anything complicated or messy about it. He felt a slight hint of determination. Toothless. He’d escape for Toothless. He’d do anything to see his best friend again.

Hiccup pulled his hand away, suddenly uneasy with the touching. 

“Yeah, you’re right, Bryn.” He looked to her, forced a bit of a smile on his face. Then he glanced at the tray of food. His stomach clenched. “But I can’t eat or drink anything. Not now.”

“Alright. I understand.”

“Thank you.” Then Hiccup was twisting to reach under his pillow where he kept the leather bound journal Dagur had given him, making sure that the blankets still covered his bottom half. “You want to see my dragon?”

“Of course.” There was a smile in her words. Hiccup knew she still didn’t believe him, but that was just fine. She didn’t have to. He turned back around, journal in hand. He began flipping through it, searching for his drawings of Toothless.

“Who’s that?” Bryn asked, pointing and stopping him on one page.

Hiccup didn’t answer for a moment, just staring down at the picture. He’d drawn Astrid smiling. He knew she wouldn’t be smiling right now, but he wanted to remember her smile.

“My girl-” Hiccup started to answer, but then stopped himself, chest aching. “Astrid. She was my girlfriend.”

“Oh. I’m, uh, sorry I asked. She’s very pretty though.”

Hiccup found it in himself to smile a little bit. “Yeah. Yeah, she is.” Then, trying to ignore the sting of tears, he flipped to the next page to a picture of Toothless. It was just a line drawing. He hadn’t shaded it because it would have only smudged everywhere, and he wanted to preserve what he looked like as best as he could.

“This is Toothless,” Hiccup said, holding up the journal to her so she could get a better view.

“You’re a really good artist,” Bryn complimented him. Then she pointed at the picture. “What’s wrong with his tail?”

Hiccup lowered it. “He’s only got one tailfin. He lost the other one.”

“How?”

Hiccup scratched the side of his face. “Well, um, I shot him down.” There were times where he still felt guilty over that, though Toothless had forgiven him years ago and he helped him fly. But whenever he began to feel guilty about it, he reasoned that they would have never found each other if he hadn’t. They wouldn’t have formed such a strong bond. More good came out of it than bad.

“Hold on. What?”

“Yeah, but it’s okay I guess because we’re friends now. I made him a new tailfin to help him fly,” Hiccup explained. “But the problem is he can’t fly without it. Or without me.” His thoughts had turned sad again. Toothless would be restless and depressed without him there and without the ability to fly. Even more reason for him to get out of here.

“You’re being serious?” Bryn seemed a little astonished. Maybe she was starting to believe him.

“Completely serious,” Hiccup answered. “I have been about all the stuff I’ve told you. I actually _do_ ride a Night Fury, and-” he tapped at the picture- “that’s him. It’s fine if you still don’t believe me, but-”

“No, I think I believe you,” Bryn told him, pleasantly surprising him. “Your stories have too many details for you to have just made it up on the spot.” She held out her hand. “Can I…?”

Hiccup hesitated before handing the journal over. Nerves crawled through his stomach once he did. She didn’t say anything, just intently looked at the pictures.

After a minute or so, she stopped on one, and her face began to go red.

Hiccup’s stomach lurched. “What? What is it?”

Bryn thrust the journal back at him, and he was stunned by what he saw. Himself, asleep on his side and as naked as the day he was born. In the bottom right there was a note in Dagur’s hand:

_Couldn’t help myself. You just looked so pretty like that, babe. Hope you like it._

If Hiccup had anything in his stomach he figured he would have thrown up. He stared at the drawing for a few moments in silence, then violently tore it out, breaths heaving with anger as he threw it into the brazier. He watched as the flame turned it to nothing but ash, wanting to make sure that it was completely destroyed.

 _As if Dagur doesn’t sicken me enough already._ The fact that the picture had obviously been done while he was sleeping disturbed him deeply. He’d never thought of what Dagur did while he was sleeping, had always brushed any thoughts of that aside. But this… It made him wonder what else Dagur had done while he was unconscious, what he had done _to_ him.

He grabbed the journal again, hurriedly flipping through it to see if there was anything else that shouldn’t be there. He didn’t find anything. It had just been that one picture.

“What did it say at the bottom?” Bryn asked softly.

Hiccup shoved the journal back under his pillow. “Nothing that matters now.” He closed his eyes for a second, swallowed back the bile in his throat. Then he was adjusting the blankets around him, even more uncomfortable with his nudity than usual. Dagur, of course, hadn’t left anything out in his drawing of him, and Bryn had seen. He felt his face heat furiously red. “I’m sorry. Dagur’s a creep and I didn’t know that was in there.” He looked down.

“Why are you apologizing for something the chief did?”

“Because…” Hiccup trailed off. “I don’t know.” He really didn’t know why he was apologizing for Dagur, but that didn’t matter at the moment. All he wanted to do was curl into a ball and let the mortification and humiliation suffocate him. He didn’t know why he’d thought Dagur would keep his hands off what little he owned. He had no respect for anything or anyone, and certainly not him.

He felt Bryn reach out her hand towards his, but he pulled it back sharply, closing his eyes. “I think you should go.”

“Are… Are you going to be okay?”

“You know I’m not,” he said darkly. “But just go anyway. Please. I need to be alone.”

“I understand.” Bryn took the tray and stood, but didn’t make to leave yet. “I’m sorry he did that to you.”

“Yeah, me too,” he mumbled, wishing she would just go. He loved her company, but now wasn’t the time for it.

Bryn didn’t say anything else, leaving the tent. Hiccup thought he would feel relief at being alone, but he didn’t feel any different. He laid down on his side, pulling the blankets up to his chin to cover himself. He just stared straight ahead. He wanted to cry but didn’t have it in him to. He was tired of crying. He was tired of everything.

 

Hiccup threw his journal at Dagur almost as soon as he entered the tent. The man fumbled for a moment before catching it in two hands, surprised by the action.

“Here, you can have that back,” Hiccup spat bitterly. “I don’t want it. I guess it wasn’t even mine to begin with.”

Dagur tilted his head a little in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Your little _surprise_ in there,” Hiccup answered. “If you’re wondering: no, I didn’t like it. I burned it.” He didn’t care if Dagur would get mad at him over this. _He_ was mad and by Odin he had the right to be!

Dagur looked hurt. “Why didn't you like it?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because it's just another way of violating me!” Hiccup yelled. “You did it while I was sleeping!”

“I think you're-”

“Don't even finish that!” Hiccup didn't want to hear what he had to say. “What else have you done to me in my sleep, huh? Maybe had a good fuck while I was out cold?!”

Dagur slammed the journal down on the table, now growing angry. “I didn't do anything,” he responded tersely.

Hiccup snorted. “Yak-shit.”

“I didn't _do_ anything!” He threw up his hands. “Jeez, Hiccup! Could you not jump to conclusions?!”

“I’ll jump to as many conclusions as I want. Why shouldn't I? You’ve made it obvious that any boundaries I have don't matter to you.”

Dagur put his arms down, hands balling into fists. His nostrils flared. “Really? Then why did I leave those pictures of Astrid in there, hm? You think I _liked_ seeing those?!”

“They’re not for you!”

“Doesn't matter! But the point is, I didn't touch them! Do you want me to set the whole damn thing on fire?!” He grabbed the journal in one hand, stalked over. “I can do that! You know, actually, I _will_ do that!” He held it out over the flames in the brazier.

“Wait!”

“You said you didn't want it,” Dagur growled.

Hiccup felt awful giving in like this, but he didn't want Dagur to burn it. It had his friends in there, his dad, Toothless. He couldn't let that be destroyed.

“I-I changed my mind,” Hiccup said, voice softening. “Please, Dagur.”

“On one condition.”

 _Oh no._ “What?”

Dagur tossed the journal at him, hitting him in the chest. “I get to draw you whenever the fuck I please and you can't get rid of it.”

Hiccup didn't like that condition one bit. He wasn't going to give in to Dagur like this. He picked up the journal, defiantly meeting Dagur's gaze. Then before he could stop and really think about what he was doing, not moving his eyes from the chief’s, he dropped it into the fire.

Neither of them said anything. Hiccup didn't even watch it burn, just holding Dagur's gaze.

“You little shit,” he seethed.

“I didn't like that condition.” His voice was even.

Silence fell again, neither he or Dagur looking away from each other. After a few moments, Dagur's features began to relax. Then he laughed. Kept laughing. Laughed so hard that he was doubled over and clutching at his stomach. Hiccup just watched this in confusion.

After what seemed like forever, Dagur calmed. Straightening, he wiped a tear from his eye.

“Hiccup, that was hilarious!”

He didn't know whether or not to take offense at that. “Uh, how?”

“You didn't want me to burn it, but then you go and do it yourself. How is that not funny?” Hiccup didn't know how to answer, but Dagur kept speaking, saving him from having to. “Now, you had dinner, right?”

Unsure of how he was feeling, a little taken aback by how fast the tone of conversation had changed, Hiccup quickly nodded. That was a lie, of course. Bryn hadn't brought him dinner, which he was perfectly fine with. He hadn't eaten or had anything to drink since last night. Granted, he was hungry and his mouth was dry, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

“Awesome. In that case…” Dagur leaned forward, grabbing him by the back of the head. Hiccup grunted in protest as his lips touched his, brought his hands up to try to shove him away. The kiss didn't last long though. Dagur pulled back, gave him a perplexed look. “Why is your mouth so dry?”

_Shit, I didn't think of that._

“It’s not?” Hiccup tried making himself sound confused. He subconsciously licked his lips. 

“Mm, pretty sure it is.” Then Dagur’s lips were once again pressed to his, his tongue delving into his mouth. Hiccup fought the urge to bite him, pushing at his armored chest to try to get him away.

Dagur broke away from him. “You haven't been drinking anything, have you?”

“I-I don't know what you're talking about,” Hiccup stammered, frightened. If Dagur knew he'd been dehydrating himself he'd force him to drink something. He'd drug him again. He was sure of it. His breaths quickened.

“Hiccup, why haven't you been drinking anything?” His voice was stern.

There was no more denying it now. “I’m not thirsty,” Hiccup answered, knowing it was a pathetic excuse.

Dagur didn't say anything. He narrowed his eyes, tightened his hold on the back of his head till it hurt and he gave a yelp at the pain.

“Ow! Okay, okay!” Hiccup fought to get him to release him, hands going to claw at his fingers. “I don't want to!”

Dagur just squeezed harder. “Why not?”

“Because you drugged me, you fucking maniac!” Hiccup managed to yank Dagur's hand off of him and then he was scooting backwards, rubbing at the back of his head. His eyes were glued to Dagur. He was waiting for him to hit him. Or worse. That didn't happen though. One second the chieftain was just glaring at him, and the next he was leaving the tent. Hiccup was confused, thinking it was too good to be true.

He was left alone for a few minutes, but his heartbeat didn't slow and his breathing didn't regulate.

 _I'm screwed. I'm so screwed._ Dagur was going to drug him again. He was going to lose his free will. He was going to be forced to _enjoy_ the things he did to him. He felt _sick._

All too soon, Dagur returned, a flask in hand. 

“You’re going to drink all of this.” There was a commanding tone in his voice. He came over to him and held out the flask, as if expecting Hiccup to do it of his own free will. There was no way in any of the Nine Realms he was going to drug himself of his own volition. He shook his head, wishing there was somewhere for him to escape to.

“Hiccup, it's just water. Don't be stupid.”

“N-no. I don't believe you.”

Dagur shook it in front of him. “Drink. It.”

Hiccup knew there was no getting out of this, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. Panic turned his thoughts to a chaotic jumble, flushed his veins with heat. He frantically shook his head, and - for the moment disregarding his nudity - got on all fours to crawl away from him. He managed to make it to the ground and a couple of feet away before Dagur yanked hard on his chain, pulling his leg out from under him and sending him crashing to his stomach. His chin knocked into the ground and he bit down on his tongue. Then Dagur had grabbed him, pulling him up by his hair.

“ _Agh!_ Let go of me!” Hiccup thrashed despite how it worsened the stinging in his scalp. “I'm not drinking it! I'm not!”

“It’s just water!” Dagur shouted, slamming him down onto his back. He climbed on top of him before he could kick him.

“No, no!” Hiccup yelled. He fought desperately, kicking and writhing and clawing, screaming at the top of his lungs out of fury and terror, blood dribbling out of his mouth. There was no way this was happening to him again!

His screams were cut off as Dagur pressed his free hand against his throat. Instinctively, Hiccup brought up his hands to get him to let go, panic increasing without the ability to breathe. 

He lost track of time, lungs burning and heaving, spots swimming in his vision. Finally, Dagur released his neck, and Hiccup gratefully pulled in a huge gasp of air. He was allowed to wheeze and get his breath back for a minute. Though, before he’d fully recovered, there was a hand yanking on his hair and forcing him into a sitting position. He spit blood, hoping to get some in Dagur's eyes.

“Stop moving! It's water! _Water!_ Just fucking drink it!”

“ _No!_ N-” His scream was interrupted as the flask was shoved to his lips. Dagur must have uncorked it while he was getting his breath back. 

He tried shaking his head out of his grip, closing his mouth. His actions spilled the liquid over his face and down the front of his body, but he didn't care. Better that than down his throat.

Hiccup smacked at the hand that held the flask, tried twisting away from him. Dagur tightened his hold on him with his knees, growled wordlessly in anger and frustration.

The liquid made it into Hiccup’s mouth and he found he had no choice but to swallow. The only thing he tasted was his own blood. Just water, like Dagur had said. Blood and water.

Hiccup grabbed onto the flask with both hands as a sign that he'd drink it on his own. Embarrassment sucked in on him, tried to draw tears from his eyes. He was stupid. He was so stupid. It _was_ just water.

Dagur released him, letting him take the flask, though he didn't move off of him. The metal of his armor was uncomfortable against his bare skin.

Hiccup drank past the lump in his throat, squeezing his eyes shut. _Stupid_. He was stupid. _So_ stupid.

“See? Told you it was just water.”

Hiccup didn't respond, busying himself with downing the flask in one go. He hated the coppery taste of his own blood, but he knew Dagur wouldn't care about that. His tongue was stinging in his mouth.

Finally, he lowered the flask, gasping for breath. He wiped his mouth on his arm, making sure to look anywhere but at Dagur's face. There was silence for a few moments.

“You’re that scared of me drugging you?” Dagur asked, sounding incredulous. That made Hiccup’s anger flare up again. He wanted to hit him, to rake his eyes out with his fingernails, but he didn't move.

“I thought you liked it,” Dagur went on.

That gave Hiccup the courage to look up and scowl at him. “I didn't like it, you bastard,” he spat. “That was the drug. Not me. _None_ of that was me.”

“Even when you said you loved me?” He was beginning to look crestfallen.

“You _made_ me say that,” Hiccup responded, angry, bitter. “ _You_ did. None of that was real, Dagur! None of it!”

“If it wasn't real then why do you remember it?” Dagur asked with a smirk, gripping his shoulders.

Hiccup opened his mouth, but then closed it again. He didn't know what to say to that. If Dagur wanted to believe that all of that had been him and not the drug, there was nothing he could do to change it. He felt defeated. Utterly stupid and defeated.

“Exactly.” The chief smiled. “Now come here. It’ll be better kissing you now that your mouth isn't dry. Bet your blood tastes good too.”

Hiccup didn't struggle when Dagur kissed him, and he didn't say anything when he pulled away. In fact, he didn't say anything for the rest of the night.


	38. Chapter 37

_Heather, from one chief to another, I’m very sorry for not being active lately. I admit that the Iron Isle changed something in me, but that doesn’t matter now. What matters is the continued search for Hiccup. I’ve provided a map detailing which places we’ve searched and where we’ve seen ships. Sadly only Dragon Hunter ships, though there was a large envoy heading away from Dark Deep. Please mark down the places you’ve searched and any ships that you’ve seen. That should help to start ruling out a few places. I wish you the best of luck._

_\- Stoick the Vast_

Dagur looked to the next page of the message, finding the map that Stoick had spoken of. So far, no one had gone anywhere near his location, which was a good thing. He was curious about the Dragon Hunter ships near Dark Deep. Hadn’t Hiccup told Viggo that that was where his friends were? Evidently, they were all still alive, so perhaps he’d lied. 

He was also a tad surprised to find that Heather and Stoick were working together. She must have healed the rift between the Hooligans and the Berserkers, and now they were working together against him.

“Sir, anything of import?” Savage asked. He’d been the one to bring him the message. One of Dagur’s unmarked ships had spotted a Terrible Terror with a scroll tied to its leg while out at sea, and had captured it and it brought to him. He was a little impressed with the initiative his men had taken.

“It appears that Heather and Stoick are working together,” Dagur answered, setting the papers down on his desk. He resisted the urge to rub at his eyes. He was tired. He’d been busy with paperwork all morning and he wanted a break. He wondered when his lunch would be brought in. “They’re searching but haven’t come anywhere near us.” He looked down at the message again, an idea forming in his head. “Bring me a map.”

“Yes, my lord.” Savage gave a small bow and left the command tent. Only when he was gone did Dagur rub at his eyes. Then he rested his elbow on the table and put his chin in his hand. He decided that, after lunch, he was going to go see Hiccup before getting back to work. He just hoped that he wouldn’t fight as hard as he had that morning. A bruise had formed on Dagur’s right cheek from a successful punch he had gotten in. He loved him, but right now he was just downright frustrated by him. There had been that ridiculous thing two nights ago where he hadn’t wanted to drink anything, and now it seemed his defiance had returned in full. It baffled him. 

Dagur sometimes liked the struggle that came with fucking Hiccup, but at the moment he really didn’t need it. He just wanted to lie back and let Hiccup do the work for once. He wasn’t half bad with his mouth when he tried, and Dagur was sure that he could do amazing things with his hips thanks to all that dragon riding.

_Mm, and the sounds he makes._

As much as Dagur wanted him to cooperate, he doubted it would happen. If Hiccup put up a fight this afternoon he wouldn’t even bother to make sure that he enjoyed it. He’d just tie him up nice and tight and go for it, maybe leave him like that again to teach him a lesson.

 _Like it would even sink in though._ Dagur was beginning to think that Hiccup’s will was impossible to break. He made breaking a boulder with your bare hands look easier.

He was pulled from his thoughts by Savage returning with the map. Dagur didn’t say anything to him, just took a piece of charcoal and set to work.

“Sir, what are you doing?”

“Shut up, Savage.”

Dagur couldn’t help feeling a giddy sense of satisfaction when he was finished. He’d decided to keep the original map Stoick had sent so that he could keep an eye on where his enemies were, and had marked a new map to send to Heather, one changing where Stoick had said they’d searched. It was perfect. Simple but devious. He laughed.

“What is it?” Savage questioned.

“Oh, I love screwing with people!” Dagur exclaimed, still laughing. “Changed all the information on where Stoick and the Dragon Riders have really searched.” He put the map under the letter, rolled both up. “Now I just have to figure out how the Hel they send Terror Mail and I can make sure this gets to my sis. Don’t want anyone to know we intercepted their mail.”

“That’s… brilliant, sir. I wouldn’t have thought of that.”

“No, of course you wouldn’t,” Dagur said, standing. He didn’t put much faith in the man’s intelligence, and he saw no point in keeping that to himself. He stood, deciding that it was time to see Hiccup now rather than later. He’d get him to tell him about Terror Mail. “Tell Captain Vorg that I want unmarked ships disguised as merchant vessels traveling between Dragon’s Edge, Berk, and Berzerk, and that anyone who sees a Terrible Terror with mail is to capture it and deliver the message to me,” Dagur ordered, brushing past him to leave. “And that no one is to read it save for me.” _Can’t have everyone knowing everything._

“Yes, my lord.”

It was snowing when Dagur went outside. Not hard – just little, drifting flakes. He brushed off the chill, making his way to his personal tent with a grin.

He found Hiccup laying on his back and reading when he entered. He glanced at him, scowled, then looked back to his book.

“Still moody over this morning then, I see,” Dagur commented.

Hiccup didn’t look at him. “No. I just don’t like you.”

It was Dagur’s turn to scowl. He almost said something about it, but changed his mind. He had something more important to take care of. He went and sat next to him, kicking idly at his chain to show that he wanted his attention.

“So how does Terror Mail work?”

Hiccup put his book down, raised his eyebrows at him. “What?”

“I need to know how Terror Mail works.”

“Oh, well, since you phrased it like that, I’m not telling you.” Hiccup picked up his book. “Not telling you anything you _need_ to know.”

Dagur grabbed the book and yanked it out of his hands, tossing it behind him to the ground.

“Hey!” He sat up, looking a little aggravated.

“I’m not asking, Hiccup.”

“Say please, then,” he said sarcastically.

Dagur reined in the urge to slap him. “Hiccup, I’m not in the mood, okay? Just tell me.”

Hiccup stubbornly crossed his arms. “Why do you need to know?”

“None of your damn business.”

“Well, if you’re asking me about it, I think it is my business,” Hiccup responded with a smirk.

Dagur didn’t hold himself back this time. He slapped him hard across the face with his free hand, and Hiccup yelped, hand going to his cheek.

“Is it possible for you to go five minutes without hitting me?!” Hiccup cried out in anger.

“Only if you give me what I want,” Dagur answered. “Honestly, it’s that simple.”

Hiccup lowered his hand, giving him a smoldering look. “Fine. Terror Mail isn’t even that complicated. Terrible Terrors have a keen sense of direction. If you release them in the direction they’re supposed to go in with a message tied to their leg, they’ll take it there. Though, you really have to train it first, or they won’t know to land or take it to the right person.”

“Huh, and here I was thinking they were stupid.”

“Yeah, well, they’re not.” Hiccup rubbed at his reddening cheek. “You got what you wanted. Can you go now? And pick up my book on the way out.”

Dagur stood with a huff. “I’m not really liking your attitude today,” he admitted. “And I’ll go, but I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Wh-” Hiccup began to ask, but then his eyes fell on the rolled up papers in Dagur’s hand. “What’s that?”

“Nothing that matters to you,” Dagur told him. He planned on keeping the whole thing a secret from Hiccup. He’d just be harder to handle if he knew all that was going on. “Now just sit tight.”

Hiccup glanced at the chain that trailed out from beneath the blankets. “Is that supposed to be funny?”

“Nope. See ya in a bit!” Dagur went back out into the snow, eager to be done with this task. He just had to set the Terrible Terror they’d captured back on its path. He was glad that no one, himself included, had decided to kill it. He chuckled. No one would ever even know he’d intercepted the message and changed the map.

“Good luck finding Hiccup now,” he muttered to himself.

 

Astrid kept glancing at Heather as she flew beside her. Her friend had fallen into a depressive state, and she’d barely spoken in the past few days, not since finding out about her pregnancy. Astrid wasn’t even sure if she should be flying on a dragon, but she’d wanted to come with her on her next scouting mission. They’d received Terror Mail – from Stoick, finally – that detailed where they’d searched. After this mission, if they didn’t find anything, they were going to send back a map showing the locations they’d searched as well. It was an efficient way of doing things.

Though, Astrid didn’t feel hopeful that they’d find anything that would help them. There was no activity from Dagur’s faction of Berserkers. Everything had just gone quiet.

“Astrid, why do you keep looking at me?” Heather asked, eyes straight ahead.

“Oh, um.” Astrid looked ahead too. “I’m just worried about you.”

“I’m fine.” Her words were sharp, irritated.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s just…” Astrid trailed off, sighed. “You’re not.”

“Well, what do you want me to say?” she snapped. “That I feel like I’m dying inside and that I wish I really was? That I’m angry at everything?”

Astrid didn’t know what to say, a little hurt by Heather’s tone.

After a moment of silence, Heather went on: “Sorry, Astrid. That wasn’t warranted. I’m just upset.”

“I know.”

“And I’m worried about _everything_. Like, what do I tell people when I start showing? _When_ will I start showing? What the Hel am I even going to do with this baby once it’s born? What do I tell our friends?” She sounded frustrated and confused. “Nothing makes sense anymore and I just feel stupid.”

“Stupid?” Astrid looked back to her, tilting her head in question. “Why?”

“For sleeping with my brother.” Her eyes swam with a jumble of emotions when she looked at her. “I should have known better, Astrid.”

“How could you have?” Astrid reasoned. 

“I don’t know. Maybe if I just thought about it.”

“But still, how would you have known?” Astrid asked. “You grew up as a single child. You didn’t have anyone to teach you about any of this stuff, and Dagur sure as Hel wouldn’t have said anything. He _didn’t_ say anything.”

Heather chewed on her lip, looked away again. “He took advantage of me.”

“He did,” Astrid confirmed.

“I’m mad at him,” she told her.

“And you have every right to be, Heather. You’re not stupid.”

Heather snorted. “Whatever. Still should have figured it out on my own.”

Astrid realized that she couldn’t argue with her at the moment. Heather would just drag everything in circles and they wouldn’t get anywhere.

Astrid looked ahead again, towards the gray clouds they were approaching. It was definitely cold enough to snow if they opened up. She was a little glad the sky was gray. Blue would just seem too cheerful, like it was mocking her. Gray was fitting. 

She’d been trying to stay optimistic for both her sake and Heather’s, but in the past few days the façade had crumbled. She missed Hiccup and was worried about him, and there was no denying it. And Heather, her only friend at the moment, her only source of comfort, had drawn into herself. She only spoke when she absolutely had to, and physical contact between them had all but stopped. They still shared a bed, but they didn’t even hold hands. Astrid supposed she should be okay with that, and she was in a way, but she still found herself missing what they’d had: just innocent touches and sweet kisses. It’d been a little happiness amidst the awful mess that was their lives.

Astrid sighed, though not heavily, even when her feelings warranted it. She hoped to the gods that they’d find Hiccup soon. She hoped to the gods that if they didn’t, they would at least find some clue to where he was.

She and Heather flew on in silence, and it began to snow.


	39. Chapter 38

Hiccup nervously bounced his right leg on the ground, but stopped when the movement made the chain rattle too much. The sound only made it seem heavier. So, instead of fidgeting, he stiffened, clasping his hands in his lap. He tried to pull in a deep breath; it shuddered on its way in and out of his throat. His stomach had twisted itself into a knot and he felt hot all over, was nearly shaking. He hadn’t been able to finish his lunch, and he’d barely spoken to Bryn during it.

That morning, he’d come to the decision that he’d finally do it – he’d do exactly what Dagur wanted. He wanted his prosthetic back, but even more than that, he wanted his robe. He couldn’t stand constantly being naked, and it was much harder for him to stay warm as the days grew colder.

So now, he sat waiting for Dagur to return. He hoped that he’d just keel over and die by some miracle before he returned for the evening, mortification eating a hole right through him. He’d told himself he wouldn’t back down. He couldn’t, not if he wanted to get out of here, and escape was what he wanted above all else.

 _Breathe_ , Hiccup schooled himself, closing his eyes. He inhaled deeply through his nose, then exhaled through his mouth. He repeated the action, trying to relax. He thought of Toothless while he did that, of his friend jumping around and playing and making noises that he couldn’t help but find adorable. The tension crept out of his muscles and he wasn’t feeling as sick as he had been.

He heard the tent flaps open, and with Dagur’s entrance came a blast of cold air. Terror stabbed him in the stomach with a hot knife. Still breathing slowly, he opened his eyes, found Dagur staring at him hungrily. Attempting to hide all of his emotion, Hiccup lowered himself to the ground as the chief began to come towards him. That stopped the man in his tracks, and he gave him a questioning look as he made himself crawl over.

Dagur hummed in satisfaction and understanding when Hiccup stopped in front of him, lowered his head, and pressed his lips to his right boot. Then he did it again, and again, swallowing back the lump in his throat. Though, this was the easy part.

“Mm, right where you’re supposed to be,” Dagur said, voice having dropped in pitch from lust. “On your knees in front of me.”

Hiccup wanted to argue, but he made himself remain silent. He let out a quiet whimper, moving onto the other boot, as he heard Dagur undoing his belt.

_I can do this. I can do this._

He almost wanted to drag out this part, but he decided against it. Steeling his nerves, he moved up Dagur's legs, forcing himself to keep his eyes open. Dagur was holding his cock like he was offering it to him, and, burying his disgust and humiliation, he took it in his mouth. 

“Fuck, Hiccup,” Dagur breathed, sounding a little astonished. He ran his hands gently through his hair, and Hiccup grasped at his thighs. 

“No, use your hands too,” he ordered.

As Hiccup stroked Dagur’s length and twirled his tongue around the tip, he wished he didn't have to think about what he was doing, that he could just let his mind go blank. He’d been getting better at doing that, but that was when Dagur was doing all the work and not taking the time to please him.

“Gods, that's good, Hiccup. That's really good. Taking tips from the way I blow you, aren't you?”

 _Oh Thor, please shut up._ What was worse was that that was exactly what Hiccup was doing. The things Dagur did to him felt good - he couldn't deny that no matter how much he wanted to - and if Dagur wanted him to return the favor, learning from him was the best way to do it.

_When I get out of here, I’m finding a way to set my mouth on fire… Or maybe I’ll just drink acid._

He was afraid that Dagur was going to lose his patience and just force his head forward, but he remained still save for continuing to stroke his hair. He breathed a groan.

Hiccup slowly made himself take in his length till he’d reached where his hand was gripping the base. He gagged and choked, fighting to relax his throat, to not pull his head back. 

“ _Mm_ , good job, baby. That’s it,” Dagur encouraged.

It took a lot of willpower to keep from biting him, though, he did let himself fantasize about it as he bobbed his head up and down. That would make Dagur _hurt_ , and by the gods did he deserve it.

“You know, this is awesome,” Dagur mused. “I really wasn’t in the mood for fighting you. You gonna be this good after dinner?”

Hiccup didn’t want to think that far ahead. _One atrocious thing at a time please._

Dagur kept talking throughout, mostly just saying senseless things of encouragement that made Hiccup want to stab him. He tried pulling away a little once Dagur was on the verge of climaxing, but he gripped his head and held him right up against his pelvis, probably trying to avoid what Hiccup had done last time, though he wasn’t planning on doing anything like that again. The result was Dagur’s load shooting right down his throat and choking him. He somehow managed to swallow around his cock, hating how the action seemed to make his throat hug it.

Dagur held him there even after his orgasm ended, moaning loudly, no doubt hurting himself. Though, he seemed to enjoy the pain. Hiccup idly thought about the agony he could cause if he bit him right at that moment. _That_ he definitely wouldn’t enjoy.

Dagur gave a cry, finally shoving Hiccup’s head away. They were both panting.

“Oh shit,” Dagur gasped out. “Damn, Hiccup, you have to do that more often.”

Hiccup wanted to protest, but he felt that if he spoke he’d start screaming at him. Either that or cry. Quite possibly both. He just clenched his jaw and looked at the ground, too many feelings roiling through him for him to make sense of them.

He yelped when suddenly Dagur was pulling him upwards by his hair. Once he had his foot under him, Dagur wrapped both arms around him and held him right up against him. Then his mouth closed over his. Hiccup nearly panicked and forgot what he was trying to accomplish, but he shoved the panic away and did exactly as Dagur wanted. More than reluctantly intertwining tongues with him, he decided that he was most _definitely_ going to drink acid when he got out of here. At the moment, he felt like he’d do anything to get the taste of Dagur out of his mouth.

Then Dagur slid his hands down, and Hiccup jumped and grabbed onto his shoulders as both hands connected with his ass in a sharp slap. He broke the abysmal kiss with a cry as Dagur spanked him again, this time with just one hand.

“Do you have to do that?” Hiccup asked weakly, the first words out of his mouth that evening.

“Yup.” Dagur hit him again, teeth clenching down on his left earlobe.

Hiccup gave another cry, but made no protest. He couldn’t ruin it this time. He had to follow through and finish this. He tried making himself feel better by telling himself that by tomorrow he’d have his prosthetic and his robe, but that didn’t serve to help him. He would have both those things, but his torment would just continue.

The thought almost broke him, and he nearly crumpled, knee shaking. A second later he was flooded with determination. He was doing this so he’d have a better chance at escaping. Once he had his leg back, he could find a way out of this. The cracks in his will closed a little. He filled them with his anger and hatred, and he hoped that would hold long enough. If not, he was doomed.

Dagur grabbed him by the backs of his thighs and lifted him up, simultaneously trying to eat his neck. Or, it seemed that way, but he bared it to him regardless of how the attention hurt. Hiccup was honestly surprised he hadn’t just taken a big bite out of him yet. Sometimes, with the way Dagur went at him, it seemed like he wanted to devour him and rip out his soul with his teeth. Then he’d eat that too.

Dagur threw Hiccup down onto the cot, and he was relieved from the Berserker’s touch as he began to hurriedly take off his armor and clothing, tossing each piece uncaringly aside. Hiccup didn’t like anything about seeing Dagur naked, but he had to admit that it was better than having metal pressing against his skin.

The way Dagur was looking at him nearly made Hiccup squirm, and gooseflesh rippled unpleasantly over his skin.

“Brother, roll over.”

Trembling ever so slightly, Hiccup rolled onto his stomach. He couldn’t stand it when Dagur addressed him like that, would rather have him call him anything else. 

“Spread your legs.”

He did just that, and he bit the pillow to stifle his whimper when he sensed Dagur positioning himself between his legs. His hands were on his ass, spreading his cheeks apart to bare his hole, and then his lips went to his rim. Hiccup released the pillow, gasping at the touch. It sent unwanted sparks of pleasure through him and into his groin, and his body, uncaring of the fact that this was a man, and Dagur of all people, began to burn with arousal.

He let himself moan as Dagur lapped at him before pushing his tongue inside. He shut down all thought as he worked him open with his mouth, relinquishing control to his body’s urges.

That primal part of him was a little disappointed when Dagur pulled his mouth away, but it was quickly pleased when spit-coated fingers entered him, curled against his prostate.

“Oh gods,” his body made him say as it arched up into that contact. That felt _good._

The moment of disconnect from his mind was ruined as Dagur slapped him hard, the pain yanking him back to himself. Hiccup’s mind having returned to his body, it wanted him to yell at him, but he bit down on the pillow again. He was grateful for having something to bite on as Dagur just continued hitting him, fingers still massaging his prostate. It was an utterly confusing mix of sensation.

He gasped for breath once Dagur stopped, rear stinging, muscles clenched.

“Your ass looks so pretty like that,” Dagur commented. Hiccup flinched as he spit right into him, and then his fingers were back, making sure his insides were properly coated. He moaned. A part of him didn't want this part to end, because once it did they’d be moving onto something even worse.

But, it did end, and then Dagur was laying on his back beside him and ordering him to get on top of him. Hiccup started shaking a little as he positioned his legs on either side of him, but it was quelled by another surge of determination.

Dagur took ahold of his cock to properly position it, and then, wishing he’d just spontaneously combust or something of the like, Hiccup slowly lowered himself onto it, closing his eyes as he did so. Dagur stroked over his hips once he was fully settled, the both of them breathing hard.

“Hiccup, roll your hips. And look at me.” His voice was nearly a growl.

Hiccup’s determination weakened. He’d been so focused on everything else that he hadn't considered that Dagur would want him to make eye contact. So, he followed through on his first order, but not his second, rolling his hips. He placed his hands on his waist to steady himself, biting his lip to remain quiet. At the moment, he was wishing that Dagur would be the only one to get something good out of this, that his movements weren't pleasuring himself as well.

Dagur's hold tightened to the point of pain, a show of anger. “Open your eyes and look at me.” His voice was terse.

Hiccup shook his head.

Dagur squeezed harder, and he gasped, was surprised he didn't hear bone crack. Once his mouth was open, he couldn't manage to close it again, his voice spilling out in exclamations of pleasure. He still didn't look at him.

“Hiccup, I swear, if you don't open those pretty eyes of yours, I’ll fuck you unconscious and make sure you bleed,” Dagur growled. Fear made Hiccup’s heart skip a beat and his breath catch in his throat. He opened his eyes, somehow made himself meet Dagur's gaze. His face heated as humiliation danced sickeningly inside of him. What made it worse was that he kept moaning, kept moving atop Dagur. Out of spite, he dug his nails into his flesh.

Dagur hissed out a breath, but released his devastating hold on his hips, leaving them to throb painfully in the absence of his touch.

“Bounce,” he commanded. “Hard. Fuck me really hard.”

“I-I don’t…” Hiccup didn't know if he could make himself do that.

“Your bitch must have fucked you like this before,” Dagur said. “Just do it like she did.”

Anger flared within him, and he held onto Dagur harder, feeling the warmth of blood begin to trickle under his nails. Dagur cried out, grabbed his hips again, thrusted up into him. 

“Do it!”

And then Hiccup was, using his knees to move himself over Dagur's cock. He started out slow, trying to get used to the movement.

“Faster,” Dagur ordered breathlessly. “Work for me, baby. Come on.”

Hiccup grudgingly did as he was told, his mind hating the pleasure his movements created, his body loving it. He tilted his head back as he moaned, eyes sliding shut. Dagur thankfully let him keep them that way.

“Oh my gods,” Dagur rasped out, sounding stunned. “I don't think you’ve ever been more beautiful.” He released his hips, and his hands began to run over his body in a reverent manner. Hiccup wished he could block his ears. He didn't want to hear anything he had to say, and he definitely didn't want to hear his gasps and moans of pleasure, especially since _he_ was the one causing it. 

Forget the acid. He was just going to stab himself.

“Touch yourself.”

Hiccup didn't want to, especially due to the fact that Dagur's blood now wet his fingers. But, he found his hand taking ahold of his cock and pumping rapidly. It almost felt like Dagur's blood burned him.

“Oh gods, you're getting my blood on you. That's really fucking hot.”

Hiccup hadn't considered that Dagur had a blood kink on top of everything else, but apparently he did. He didn't think he’d ever felt more disgusted in his life. It was almost overwhelming.

After a few minutes, Dagur whimpered out: “Hiccup, cum. Please cum.”

“I’m - trying,” he gasped. His legs had yet to grow tired, muscles still strong from dragon riding. He really did want to cum. If he did, Dagur most likely would too, and then this would be over.

But he just couldn't. There was just something so fundamentally wrong about him riding the Berserker chief like this, and his body knew it.

“Try harder!”

Hiccup didn't know how to respond to that with either actions or words, so he didn't. After a while, he began to slow.

“I-I can't. Dagur, I can’t.”

He yelled in surprise as Dagur suddenly rolled and shoved him onto his back, his arms splaying out to either side. The other man hooked his arms under his legs and shoved them up to his chest, thrusting into him vigorously.

“You mean you like it better like this?” He shouted. There was no anger in it though.

“N-no, I…” Hiccup’s words faltered, turning into cries. That was fine. There was no way he could explain any of what he was feeling to Dagur anyway, even if he wanted to.

He suddenly crested the wave of his orgasm and he shouted, body curving into his and Dagur's connection of its own accord. Then he felt Dagur cumming as well, filling him with his seed. The chief shouted his name.

It was over in a matter of seconds and Dagur stilled, the both of them breathing hard, coated in a glistening sheen of sweat. Dagur let go of his legs, and Hiccup was glad to let them rest, the Berserker’s manhood sliding out of him as he did so.

Dagur rested on his left elbow, his right hand stroking over Hiccup’s heaving chest. He caressed his brand, something he did often, the touch sparking a small stinging.

“Hiccup,” he started, “you were amazing. Absolutely amazing. I’ll give you your leg and your robe back after dinner, okay?”

Hiccup only nodded, too busy battling his shame to find words. It would rise up, quick and oppressive, and he would bat it back down, but only for a second or two, before it would swell again into a giant black mass that threatened to swallow him. After a few more attacks like this, he succumbed to it, and he rolled onto his side away from Dagur, curling into a ball. 

He was breathing and his heart was beating, but he almost felt like both had stopped. He felt beat down, like he was drowning, trapped in the ocean during an endless storm. Leaks began to form in him, springing from the cracks that he’d plugged up with his anger. They trickled cold black water into him, discouraging his very existence. Dagur was speaking, but his voice was just a droning buzz in his ears. He felt himself beginning to panic, and he tried damming up the leaks with whatever he could, scrounging desperately for the fury and hate that he’d felt only minutes ago. A hand stroked over his back and he became frantic, desperate, filling the cracks with everything he had. He somehow found a bit of hope lying amongst the scattered pieces of himself, and he used that, the violent trickles of stringent blackness ceasing. It battered against the barrier, but for the time being, it couldn't break it.

Hiccup returned to reality, shaking and cold, heart pounding from the struggle. The cracks were taken care of, and they should hold for now.

Dagur had wrapped himself around him, the heat of his body seeping into him. He was speaking to him, questioning.

“Hiccup, what's wrong?” There was genuine concern in his voice. “Talk to me. Please. What’s wrong?”

Hiccup took a deep, shuddering breath, making himself relax in Dagur's arms. 

“Nothing,” he answered evenly, calmly. “Nothing's wrong.”

 

Hiccup tied on his prosthetic with the little length of rope. Then he flexed his leg, touched it down to the ground a few times to make sure that it was on properly. It felt bizarre after not having it for almost a month.

He slowly stood, legs shaking a little. He took a step forward, began to fall, but Dagur caught him. 

“Get off me,” he growled, shoving him away. He righted himself, straightened his robe. He was glad to have that back as well. 

He just stood for a moment, trying to get used to the feeling. Then he began pacing, slowly, legs shaking. His muscles weren’t accustomed to walking anymore. Luckily, he didn’t fall again. Though, his steps were strange and uneven, the chain weighing down his foot. He gritted his teeth in frustration.

“You like being able to walk again?” Dagur asked.

“Yeah…?” Hiccup couldn’t keep the question out of his voice. He knew that he was going somewhere with this. He turned towards him. He felt a little more confident now that he could stand on his own and was once again clothed. He stood a few inches taller than Dagur.

“Good. So if you want to keep it, you’ll do whatever I want every other day,” Dagur said, crossing his arms.

Hiccup frowned, though, he was glad that Dagur hadn’t said every day. He knew he wouldn’t be able to do that.

“Deal?”

“Yeah,” he responded quietly, upset with this arrangement. “Deal.”

“Good.” He beckoned to him with one hand. “Now get over here and kiss me.”


	40. Chapter 39

The splash of cold water on Hiccup’s face was refreshing and helped to wake him up, though it chilled him at the same time. He shivered, reaching for the towel next to the washbasin, giving a glance to the small mirror that had been set down beside it on the little table. He debated using it as he dried his hands and face. He hadn’t seen his own reflection since he’d been taken captive, and he was afraid and curious all at once.

Making his decision, Hiccup put the towel down and picked up the mirror, steeling himself for what he would see. 

His face looked pretty much the same, but he found that he didn’t recognize his own eyes. There wasn’t the same amount of life in them as he remembered, and they looked haunted almost. Disturbed, he drew his gaze away from his reflection’s.

Hiccup rubbed a hand over his neck, the skin there marred with marks of red and purple. In a few spots he could see the outlines of teeth. He pulled his robe open, found similar markings on his collarbone. He caught a glimpse of his brand – something he could see just find without a mirror – and, feeling a sudden anger, he put the mirror down hard, yanking his robe closed.

A sudden cold breeze announced someone’s entrance. Before he could turn to see who it was, he heard Bryn’s voice.

“Hiccup, you’re standing?”

“Yeah.” He turned to her and walked over, his steps still a little shaky. He lifted his left leg to show her his prosthetic. “Dagur gave me this back.”

Bryn studied it for a moment before looking back to his face and noting: “And your robe too.”

“Yeah, thank the gods.” Hiccup, of course, wasn’t going to tell her anything about why he had had both returned to him. He moved to go take a seat at the table, but then hesitated. Sitting was really going to hurt. Though, gritting his teeth, he made himself do it anyway, letting out a small whimper of pain when he made contact with the chair.

“Uh, everything alright?” Bryn asked him, setting the tray down in front of him.

“Totally,” Hiccup lied, shifting a little to somehow see if he could get more comfortable. Bryn sat across from him. “Just peachy. But forget about me. How are you doing?” He picked up his silverware.

“Me? Why?”

“Because I care,” Hiccup told her. “That’s what friends do: mutually care about each other.”

“Oh, um, fine, I guess,” Bryn answered, seeming a little stunned. “Just, no one really bothers to ask me.”

“Well, I’ll bother.” Hiccup gave her a small smile, began to eat. Once he chewed and swallowed, he asked: “What’s the weather like?”

“The weather?”

“I haven’t been outside in about a month, so yeah, what’s it like?”

“It’s been snowing a little for the past few days,” Bryn told him.

Hiccup worked his jaw. Snow. He’d expected it, but it still wasn’t really a good thing. He’d leave footprints in snow.

“Would you be able to give me updates on that?” Hiccup asked. “Escaping in the snow wouldn’t be ideal.”

Bryn’s face lit up a bit. “So you have a plan to get out?”

“No, not really. Not yet, anyway. I’ve just been thinking about it now that I can walk.” Hiccup looked forlornly under the table to his right leg. “Gonna have to take care of this chain first.”

“I can help you escape.”

Hiccup didn’t even have to consider her offer. “No, Bryn, you can’t,” he answered quickly, looking back to her. “You can’t get involved. Something bad could happen to you. Something really, _really_ bad.”

“But-”

“ _No_.” His voice was commanding. “If something went wrong and Dagur got his hands on you…” Hiccup trailed off, closing his eyes for a moment. The thought made him sick. “Just no.”

“Hiccup, _please_ let me help you,” she implored. “We can go together.”

He vigorously shook his head, opening his eyes to meet her determined gaze. “I said no, Bryn. You don’t have any idea the things he’d do to you. If I’m going to get out of here, I’m going to do it on my own. That way, if it doesn’t work, I’m the only one Dagur can take his anger out on. You understand?” 

Bryn paused, but then quietly nodded, pursing her lips.

“And promise me you won’t try anything,” Hiccup continued, “that you won’t do anything to help me in any way.”

She didn’t say anything.

“Bryn.”

“I promise.”

“Thank you.” Hiccup suddenly felt bad, realizing that he’d be leaving her behind. “I _would_ like to go with you,” he told her. “I really would, but I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

“I understand, Hiccup,” she said gently. “I know that it’s not out of selfishness.”

“I’m sorry, Bryn.”

She gave him a smile that looked a bit forced. “It’s okay. If you can get out and get away from the chief, I’d be happy. I don’t really know what he’s doing to you, but I hate it. I really hate it.”

“Yeah, me too,” Hiccup said lowly. “Anyway, I don’t think you should stay very long. Dagur’s making it a habit of visiting me in the afternoon.”

“Okay, just, be careful with him.”

Hiccup snorted. “Come on, Bryn. You know I’m not like that. Cooperating with him is the last thing I want to do.” He briefly thought of the day before, shame curling in his stomach. He buried it under anger, and the reasoning that he’d _had_ to do it. And then he’d have to do it again tomorrow… He suddenly lost his appetite, but forced food into his mouth anyway.

“But he’s the chief. And he hurts you.”

“Yeah, well, he’s not my chief,” Hiccup said bitterly. “And he tends to hurt me whether or not I do cooperate.” He thought for a moment, tilted his head a little. “Why do you never use his name?”

“It’s not my place. Besides, I didn’t even know it until you said it.”

“Wait, really?”

She nodded. 

“Huh.” Hiccup kept eating. It made sense that Bryn wouldn’t have known Dagur’s name. “I’ve actually known him my entire life.” He’d never told her that before. “He used to be allies with Berk.”

“What happened?”

Hiccup looked uncomfortably down at his food. “I did, I guess. We got older and I must have done something that made him interested in me as more than a knife-throwing target.” He couldn’t help feeling that this situation, this mess he was in, the war that had happened three years ago, the war that was happening now, was all his fault. How could it not be? Dagur had made it clear that it was, had told him over and over again, and he’d learned that Dagur didn’t lie to him. If anything, he was uncomfortably truthful with him. His next words were much quieter: “He went to war over me.”

“Over one person?” Bryn asked, astonished. “Seems kind of overboard.”

“Yeah, he’s crazy. Restarted the war by taking me.”

“Wait, Berk went to war over you?”

“Well, um…” Hiccup had told her quite a lot about his life on Berk, but not that he’d been Berk’s heir, that he was of royal blood. An ache formed in his chest, thinking about it in the past tense like that. “Before I was branded, I was Berk’s prince.” He was surprised that the words even came out. “My father is Stoick the Vast, the chief of Berk.”

Bryn’s eyes went big. “Hold on, so I’ve been talking to _royalty?_ ”

“Former royalty,” Hiccup mumbled, upset with where the conversation had gone. “I doubt you know this, but by law, branding gets rid of a person’s status. It’s illegal for anyone who’s branded to rule.” He spoke clinically, detaching himself from the statement. Though, he did have to keep himself from saying: “I’m nothing.”

“Oh,” she said. “Yeah, I definitely didn’t know that. I never had any status or anything. I’m just… well, me.”

Hiccup found himself smiling at the simplicity of that statement, wishing that he could think of himself in the same manner, that his feelings weren’t so complicated.

“What?” Bryn questioned, noticing the smile.

“I like you, Bryn,” Hiccup told her, still smiling. He loved it that she could get him to do that. “I like you a lot.”

 

Viggo kept his anger in check as he strode towards Dagur’s tent, making sure that all his emotions were hidden under calm features. Showing emotion could be taken as a sign of weakness, and that was the last thing he wanted.

He’d arrived with what was left of his envoy from Dark Deep, not even bothering to meet with Ryker and tell him what he was doing, though he hadn’t seen him in close to four weeks. He was a little tired of being at sea, but he knew this trip would pay off. The Berserkers stationed at the beach had let him anchor his fleet and come off with no problem. Dagur must not have said anything about deserting.

He paid no heed to the guards posted ten feet from the tent, not until one of them stopped him with a hand to his chest. He narrowed his eyes at the hand, then shot a dangerous look at the man that had the gall to touch him. 

“No one’s allowed in Dagur’s tent,” he said. He didn’t meet his gaze, but he didn’t remove his hand either.

Viggo took a step back so that both of the guards were in his direct vision. He wasn’t surprised by the muffled grunts and moans he heard coming from the tent, nor was he deterred by them. This was important.

He raised his eyebrows in an act of obliviousness. “Oh really? Why is that?”

A distinct cry came from within and one of the guards nervously cleared his throat.

“Um, perhaps you could wait in his command tent for now. I’m sure he’s almost finished with his consort.”

“Ah, well, you see, I really must speak with the both of them, so if you don’t mind…” Viggo just walked right on past them, and they let him. There wasn’t much they could do to stop him.

Not caring what he would be walking in on, he pulled aside one of the flaps and slipped inside. He decided to study the sight before him for a moment before announcing himself, just out of curiosity. Dagur had Hiccup pinned on his back and he was bent over him with his teeth around his throat. The younger man had his head thrown back, eyes shut and face twisted in pain or pleasure, moans and cries escaping his gaping mouth. His legs were hooked over Dagur’s arms and his hands appeared to be bound in front of him.

Viggo loudly cleared his throat to make his presence known once he realized that neither Dagur nor Hiccup was going to notice that he was there. Dagur whipped his head towards him, eyes wide with surprise.

“Whoa! What the Hel?!” Dagur shouted, flailing for a moment before flattening Hiccup underneath him to hide him from sight. He clumsily groped around before finding a blanket to pull over the both of them. “My guards let you in?!” His face was flushed red with anger and embarrassment. 

“I let myself in,” Viggo responded coolly, completely unfazed. “I need to speak with Hiccup.”

There was a confused sound from underneath Dagur, and an auburn head of hair appeared between his arms. The Berserker roughly shoved it back out of sight.

“Stay down, you!” Dagur’s gaze went back to his, a ferocious gleam in his eyes. “Hiccup is rather busy at the moment if you haven’t noticed,” he growled out.

“Well, then I’ll speak with him when you’re finished, if you don’t mind.”

Dagur glared at him. “What if I do mind?”

“Then I suppose you’ll just have to get over it.” Viggo made a flourishing gesture towards him. “Now carry on. Finish up. I can’t wait all day.” With that, he left the tent.

 

Half an hour later, Hiccup was seated at the table in Dagur’s tent, as presentable as he could make himself at the time being. He’d cleaned up a little at the washbasin, had donned his robe, and combed his hair. He wished he had real clothes to wear if he was going to be speaking with Viggo, but this would just have to do.

His hands were folded in his lap, his right leg bouncing nervously, the movement rattling the chain on his foot. He knew why Viggo was here. He’d discovered that he’d lied to him about where his friends were, though hopefully the hard way. The point of his lie had been to do him damage, to lower the numbers of his fleet. Of course, if that had happened, he’d be furious with him, much more so than if the lie had done him no harm.

 _But I did it for the right reasons,_ he told himself to try to instill a little bit of courage. 

He forced his leg to stop bouncing and shifted uncomfortably in the chair. Another thing that bothered him was the very visible marks that Dagur had left on him. He almost wished that he hadn’t seen his reflection earlier. Though, he would have been uncomfortable all the same if he didn’t know what he looked like.

Hiccup's head shot up and he straightened his posture as someone entered the tent. It was Viggo, and he appeared to be alone. Surprisingly, he was holding a cup in each hand, and there was a small wooden box under his arm. Neither of them said anything as he came over and placed the items on the table before taking a seat across from him.

Viggo spoke first, pushing one of the cups towards Hiccup. “I brought you a drink. I figured you would need one.”

Hiccup's face burned. He couldn't believe this man had just walked in on Dagur raping him and had talked as if nothing was out of the ordinary. He looked down into the cup, suspicious of its contents. It appeared to just be red wine, but what if there was something else in it? What if he was planning on drugging him, just as Dagur had?

“I did not tamper with it, I assure you,” Viggo said, picking up on his suspicions. He took his own cup and brought it to his lips, watching him over the rim.

So, Hiccup grabbed the cup and took a sip. Red wine like he’d thought. He didn't pick up on any taste that shouldn't be there. Needless to say, he was confused. He figured Viggo would be angry with him, not sitting and drinking with him. He lowered his cup and looked to the box. Then again, this was only the start. He had no idea what was in there or where this would go.

“Where’s Dagur?” Hiccup asked. He was wondering how it was that Viggo was talking to him alone. The chief was extremely possessive of him and clearly didn't trust anyone to be alone with him for too long.

“I only wish to speak with you, not him. He would just get in the way,” Viggo explained, placing his cup down and leaning forward with his hands folded on the table. “Besides, I’m sure you wouldn't be comfortable with him here either. I managed to convince him to let us have this conversation in private.”

Hiccup had no idea if that made him feel better or worse about the situation. He didn't like either man.

“Oh, how kind of you,” he said sarcastically. “It would be difficult for me to deal with two madmen, now wouldn't it?”

Viggo smiled in what seemed like genuine amusement. “I see he hasn't broken your spirit. Impressive.”

Hiccup’s lip curled in a sneer. He wasn't about to discuss his current situation with this man.

“What have you come here for, Viggo?” Better to just get to the point and get it over with. “Certainly not to make small talk.” He took a few swallows of wine in an attempt to steel himself.

“Oh, my dear Hiccup, you know exactly why I'm here.”

He inwardly cringed at the way Viggo had addressed him. He already got enough of things like that from Dagur.

“Mm, do I?”

Viggo leaned back again, looking to be more relaxed. He took his cup in one hand.

“Well, yes. You did lie to me last time we spoke.” He took a sip. “And it was an extremely clever one if I do say so myself. Lost five ships to that Catastrophic Quaken before my men were able to subdue it.”

Hiccup closed his eyes for a moment, a pang entering his chest. “It's dead?”

“I’m afraid so. Lies do have consequences, you see.” 

_No, I didn't mean for that to happen._ Guilt hit him like an arrow, and he was suddenly feeling incredibly weak and powerless. Despite his efforts, Viggo was here, alive, and a dragon was dead. It was his fault.

He looked back at him, blinking back tears. There was an ache in his throat. “So what do you want?”

“Well, real information obviously,” Viggo responded with a huff. 

“I have nothing to tell you.”

“That's what you said last time, but there's got to be something in there, hm?”

Hiccup tightened his grip on his cup. “I don't know, okay? I honestly don't.” He hoped that Viggo would believe him. He was surprised at his seeming lack of anger and vengeance.

“Really.” His voice was flat; he obviously wasn't buying it.

“Viggo, I’m telling the truth. Look, I even swear by Odin!” He gestured wildly while he spoke. “I have _no_ idea where my friends or their dragons are. That was the whole point. We didn't decide on a place to run to if any of us were captured. That decision was up to whoever was left, that way the one who was taken wouldn't be able to say anything. I _swear_.”

There was a bit of silence as Viggo took that in. He sipped his wine, furrowed his brow in thought. Then he leaned forward again and placed his cup down. 

“I see. Very smart. I suppose you're the one who suggested that. Very smart indeed.”

“Don't compliment me,” Hiccup spat. 

“Why shouldn't I?” Viggo asked. “Can't rivals respect one another? See the good traits in their opponents? You have a brilliant mind, Hiccup Haddock.”

He said nothing to that, just tightened his lips into a thin line.

Viggo tapped his fingers on the table and continued when he realized that he wasn't going to respond. “Yet somehow you ended up in this situation with seemingly no way out, a slave to a man you despise.”

“I’m not discussing this with you.” His tone was hard, even as shame began to creep into the pit of his stomach. “You got what you wanted, so go.”

“I didn't quite get _all_ that I wanted,” Viggo said as he rose from his chair. He circled around the table to stand beside him. Hiccup wasn't comfortable with Viggo standing while he sat, so he stood and turned to face him, straightening his robe to make sure it covered everything.

“What else could you possibly want?” He tried to sound annoyed rather than frightened, which he most certainly was. Viggo was scary. There was no denying that. And he was just looking at him so intently with his dark eyes. It made his skin crawl.

Hiccup flinched as Viggo suddenly placed a hand on his shoulder, the touch surprisingly gentle.

“You know, this is not what I ever pictured for you,” he commented, seeming as if he hadn't heard his question. Hiccup didn't have it in him to keep eye contact anymore, and he turned his head away.

He froze as Viggo's fingers ran curiously down his chest, towards the part in his robe. His breath quickened. Viggo couldn't possibly want to-

“Though it makes sense that Dagur has a liking for you.” His fingers slipped past the red fabric, his touch cold on his bare skin. “You are quite the specimen.”

“Don’t.” That was all Hiccup was capable of. For some reason he couldn't gather the strength to move away or to smack him. Maybe it was because he knew there was no point. He shivered as Viggo pushed aside the fabric and bared his right shoulder.

“I apologize for my cold hands.” His fingers grazed over his shoulder. “Hm, I didn’t really have time to notice this the last time I saw you. When were you struck by lightning?”

Hiccup was a little shocked that he recognized what the strange scar on his right shoulder was. It really wasn't a common thing. He looked back towards him. His eyes were no longer on his face, studying the bared skin instead.

“Three years ago. When I was fifteen.” His voice was surprisingly even.

“Gosh, I _do_ forget how young you are,” Viggo exclaimed. “Your intelligence is beyond your years.”

Hiccup watched as Viggo’s eyes flitted to the left. He followed his gaze and realized that the slightest bit of his brand was showing. 

_Oh gods, no._ He didn't want him to see that, but he also knew there was nothing he could do to stop him.

“What’s this?” He tugged the robe aside so that his entire chest was revealed. Hiccup closed his eyes.

“I see Dagur has decided to take things very seriously,” Viggo noted, surprise evident in his voice. Hiccup's breath hitched as his fingers traced over the brand. A few tears fell freely down his cheeks. 

“Viggo, i-if you’re going to scr-screw me, quit talking and j-just get it over with.” His bottom lip trembled and his muscles felt weak.

“Oh, my boy, that's not what I came here to do.” His hand was suddenly cupping his face, but he stubbornly kept his eyes closed. “Desires of the flesh do not often rule me as they do Dagur.” He stroked his thumb over his cheek. “You are not wrong in assuming that I desire you, but there is no tact in rape. It is barbaric. Also, not to mention illegal, now that Dagur has marked his ownership of you.”

Hiccup's insides twisted. What could he have possibly done to draw the interest of his enemies in such a way? And it sickened him that the brand could act as protection. The fact that he was grateful for it protecting him from Viggo was even worse.

“Then what-” A sob nearly escaped, and he had to take a deep breath. His voice was much steadier when next he spoke. “Then what do you want from me?” He managed to open his eyes and meet his gaze.

Viggo began fixing his robe and putting it back into place. “It's quite simple really. See, I am actually quite angry with you, my dear boy.” Once done with his robe, he pulled his hands away, and Hiccup was relieved to be free of the touching. “And since you have no information to give me, I at least want an apology.”

 _What? That's it?_ Hiccup was taken aback. He thought for a moment before responding.

“I will not apologize to you.” His words were strong, his tears fading. There was no way he would do that. Viggo was his enemy in a war. He didn't deserve an apology.

Viggo _tsked_ and shook his head. “I was afraid you would say that.” Suddenly, a hand was clamped tightly on his shoulder, shoving him down into the chair hard. Then the man was right in his face, sneering and showing very real anger. Hiccup did his best not to shrink backwards.

_He must have been keeping it in check all this time._

“You will apologize to me, Hiccup Haddock!” Viggo demanded. He wasn't quite yelling, but he wasn't soft spoken either. “Or I will make what I did to you last time look like child’s play!”

“I was under the impression that it was illegal for anyone but Dagur to harm me,” he said, frightened.

“Well, Dagur and I came to an agreement,” Viggo explained. “So apologize to me this instant, or I swear you will regret it!”

Hiccup gathered whatever courage he had and narrowed his eyes at Viggo. “I would regret apologizing to you more.”

Viggo drew himself up. “You might just change your mind.” 

He reached for the wooden box, which Hiccup had forgotten about during all this. Viggo opened it towards himself so that he couldn't see what was inside, and pulled out a small glass vial. He was able to hold it between two fingers, and there was some sort of clear liquid inside. He placed the box back down and uncorked the vial, then reached for Hiccup’s cup. Adrenaline and anxiety flared hot through his veins.

“Usually, this is only used on dragons,” Viggo began as he poured the contents of the vial into the cup. Hiccup shifted nervously, but didn't even consider changing his mind. “But it has the same effect on humans. Though, it has to be used in much, _much_ smaller doses, seeing as I don't want to kill you.” He put the now-empty vial on the table and swirled the cup around to mix the mysterious liquid with what was left of his wine. Then he held the cup out to him with a smirk. “Apologize for lying to me and you won't have to drink this.”

“Actually, I’m a little thirsty. Thanks.” Hiccup took the cup from him. He had no idea what he was in for and he was terrified, but there was no way he was going to apologize to Viggo for what he'd done. It had been the right thing.

He looked down into the cup to see if there was any visible change to the wine, stomach doing flips. Then, in one swift motion, he had it to his lips with his head tilted back, swallowing it down as fast as he could manage without choking. There was almost no noticeable difference in the taste, just a slight tang to it. He put the cup down and cleared his throat.

“Well that didn't taste as bad as I expected.”

Viggo's eyes had widened a little in shock, and he’d drawn his head back. Hiccup felt a small victory at that.

“That was… daring,” Viggo decided. “You do truly believe in your cause, don't you?”

“Yes, I really do,” Hiccup stated firmly. “Now what was that supposed to do to me?”

“Oh, just give it a moment.” There was a malicious gleam in Viggo's eyes. “I am sure you’ll soon be feeling its effects.”

They waited for a minute or so in tension-filled silence. Hiccup looked anywhere but at Viggo, trying to ignore the feeling of his penetrating gaze. He was starting to feel very weak all of a sudden. It was becoming hard to sit upright and he slumped backwards in the chair. He looked down at his hands and found that they were trembling, but he couldn't feel them doing it for some reason. There was a strange tingling and warmth spreading throughout his body. He looked to Viggo to find him smirking down at him.

“Feeling anything yet?” he questioned, though it was becoming quite obvious that he was. Hiccup narrowed his eyes in response.

The warmth and tingling were short lived, beginning to recede. He was expecting something worse to overtake him as it faded, but instead he felt nothing. Literally nothing. All physical sensation, save for that in his face, was gone. Horrified, he tried to move his arms, but they just hung there limp and useless, hands in his lap. He tried wiggling his fingers and toes, but couldn't feel them to complete such an action. He was numb and paralyzed from the neck down.

_What is Viggo doing? If he wanted to cause pain, this is certainly not the way to do it._

He kept trying to move, but his body wouldn't listen to his commands. It didn't even feel like he _had_ a body. It was beginning to unnerve him.

“Hiccup, are you able to move?” Viggo questioned.

“No.” Though he could feel his face, he was a little surprised that his voice still worked. 

The man reached out a hand and pinched his arm. He only knew because he saw it. He didn't feel it at all.

“Did you feel that?”

“Uh, no.” Hiccup was confused and frightened. What purpose could Viggo have in not making him feel anything?

“Good. Now, you favor your left hand, correct?”

“Um, yeah… Why are you asking?” Fear made his voice a little higher.

Viggo crouched down in front of him. “I don't want to inconvenience you too much.” He took his right hand in both of his, and Hiccup felt strange watching and knowing that that was his hand, but not being able to feel it. 

“I don't know, I think not being able to move is pretty inconveniencing.”

“But so are broken fingers, don't you think?” Viggo was looking very pleased with himself. “If you don't apologize to me, you’ll be giving yourself pain to feel later.”

For some reason, that scared Hiccup more than being threatened with feeling the pain immediately. It felt more wrong, somehow. That was Viggo’s tactic: to mentally and emotionally manipulate him.

“I won't apologize to you,” Hiccup stated.

Viggo sighed dramatically. “Very well then. Shall I start with your index finger?”

Hiccup couldn't help watching what happened next. It was the only way he'd be able to tell what was done to him.

Viggo snapped his finger like it was a stubborn twig. He cried out, expecting to be assaulted with pain, but there was none. He was looking at his own broken finger in Viggo's hand, and he felt nothing. He was sure that if he could feel his stomach he'd be sick. Horrified tears flooded his vision. There was no other way for his body to react. It had been robbed of everything else.

“Wh-what did you give me?” His voice was weak.

“It's venom from a dragon called the Triple Stryke,” Viggo answered matter-of-factly. “Have you ever encountered one?”

Hiccup shook his head, still looking at his crooked finger in shock. To think he'd be feeling that damage later terrified him in a way that he'd never felt before.

“It has a tail that can be separated into three.” Viggo was speaking as if he was teaching a class rather than torturing someone. “Each single tail is equipped with a stinger that carries a different type of venom. The purpose of one of the tails is to numb and, consequently, paralyze its victim. Of course I had to give you a very small amount, or else your internal organs would too be paralyzed and you’d be killed.”

Hiccup would have found this new knowledge rather interesting if it wasn’t being used against him.

Viggo changed his hold on his finger, then gripped it tight and made some sort of motion. There was an awful crack that made Hiccup wince and then tighten his jaw.

“Really? You had to break it in two places?” His voice was just an airy gasp. He was still waiting for pain, still expecting it. He wondered how long the effects from the venom would last.

“No. I’m going to set each bone after I break it.” Viggo released his index finger and moved onto the middle. “I don’t want to leave you with any permanent damage.”

“H-how considerate of you.” 

Even though he braced himself, Hiccup screamed when his next finger was snapped. It was utterly horrifying to see it bent so unnaturally and not feel a thing. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away, and he watched him set that one too, cringing at the sound it made. To think it was actually coming from him… He held back a sob.

“You seem rather disturbed, Hiccup. Would you like me to stop?” Viggo’s voice was taunting. He watched as he took ahold of his next finger. “Apologize to me and save yourself from further harm.”

Hiccup didn’t speak, knew that if he opened his mouth he’d actually start sobbing. He didn’t want that. Now resigned to his fate, he shook his head. He’d dealt with broken bones before. He could do this.

He only made a small whimpering sound when his next finger was broken. Reflexively, he tried to pull his hand away, but of course nothing happened. He couldn’t move his hand when it felt like he didn’t have one. He would have definitely thrown up by now if he could feel his stomach.

After setting the bone, Viggo looked to him and, once again, Hiccup shook his head. Though, he could no longer bear to watch, and he closed his eyes when Viggo took his little finger in his hands. 

The next sound of breaking bone felt like it was scraping against his ears and he shook his head a little at the discomfort. He was wishing he couldn’t hear anything.

There was another crack and then Viggo spoke: “Do not make me have to break your thumb too.”

“D-d-do it,” he spluttered. 

He heaved a sob at the next snap, actually opened his eyes to look. His thumb was all wrong and his other fingers were starting to discolor and swell. He watched him set it with gritted teeth.

Then Viggo finally released his hand and stood. Hiccup just kept looking at his hand, vision blurred with tears. He could feel the other man intently watching him.

 _Oh gods, oh gods._ He tried swallowing down the lump in his throat, doing his best to keep it together. His lower lip shook. What had been done to him was utterly disturbing. Viggo certainly hadn’t lied about making his last torture session look like child’s play.

“Have you anything to say, Hiccup?”

Hiccup drew his gaze away from his mutilated hand to meet Viggo’s dark eyes.

“N-no.” 

“Are you certain? Because I can do much worse.”

Hiccup was silent, breathing heavily through his open mouth. His tears were drying, but now he was feeling an overwhelming sense of panic. He was stuck.

He gave a cry as he was suddenly slapped hard in the face, the only part of him he could still feel. Then Viggo was clutching at his robe, leaned over so that their noses were almost touching.

“Swallow your pride and say it!” he shouted. “This resistance is pointless!”

_Perhaps it is. But no. Apologizing would make me look weak. It’ll make him think he’s won and that he can get whatever he wants from me._

Hiccup responded by spitting in his face. Viggo let go of him and wiped his face with a growl, then slapped him again, breaking skin.

“Oh so that’s how it’s going to be, is it?!” He was angrily rifling through the box and Hiccup didn’t get a chance to see what he pulled out before he had one of his hands in his hair and was wrenching his head to the side. He tried to struggle, but of course nothing happened. 

“What are you doing?” Hiccup gasped out. His head was released and he looked to see Viggo putting something back in the box.

“I just injected you with another one of the Triple Stryke’s venoms,” he said curtly, slamming the lid closed. “This one will negate the effects of the first one I gave you and then do something much, much worse.” He turned to look at him. “Did you know that being burned alive is supposedly the most painful thing a human can experience?”

“Wh-what?” Hiccup’s face drained of color. 

“Of course, the venom won’t cause any actual damage,” Viggo continued, a devilish grin on his face. “It will just trick your nerves into thinking that you’re burning. Rather ironic for someone who cares so much about dragons, don’t you think?”

Hiccup’s mouth was dry and he tried wetting his lips with his tongue. He didn’t know what to say.

“Or, the pain can be avoided,” he offered. “Say you’re sorry and I can give you the numbing venom again. You don’t even have to feel the effects of this one if you do it now.”

Panic quickened Hiccup’s breaths and he could hear his heart beating in his ears. He probably didn’t have too much longer before the venom started working, but could he just succumb to Viggo like that?

 _No_ , he decided. He couldn’t. What his enemies thought of him was important, and he couldn’t let Viggo think that he was some weak child that could be bullied into doing what he wanted. If he gave in now, he would think he’d be able to get other things from him, and Hiccup couldn’t let that be the case.

He didn’t speak, just gave his answer by narrowing his eyes in a glare.

“Very well then.” Viggo sat himself against the table and crossed his arms. “Now we wait.”

 

Hiccup was absolutely infuriating. All this and he refused to give one simple apology! No wonder Dagur hadn’t broken him yet. He was too strong-willed for his own good.

Of course, at the same time that Hiccup’s will angered and confounded him, Viggo also admired it. He’d encountered chiefs and warriors, all older than the Dragon Rider, that had less backbone. 

He was watching him intently, waiting to see the signs of the venom beginning its work. He’d broken eye contact with him and was just looking straight ahead, jaw set in determination.

Hiccup was strong, but Viggo was sure he wouldn’t last thirty seconds under the full onslaught of the pain. Most men only lasted five before giving him what he wanted. Then again, most men also gave him exactly what he wanted before reaching this point.

Hiccup’s features twisted in a grimace, and the fingers of his left hand twitched. Sensation was returning to him. Soon, he’d be feeling the full pain from his broken fingers.

He made the full return of sensation known by clutching his injured hand to his chest and doubling over with a loud groan, eyes now tightly shut. Viggo could make out fresh tears forming.

“You can still save yourself, Hiccup,” he reminded him. “It’s all up to you. No one else is going to do it.”

“Go to Niflheim!” he spat out, pain clear in his voice. He released a moan, bending even more.

_A few more seconds._

Then Hiccup fell from the chair and onto the ground, and the screaming started. He began silently counting, watching as Hiccup thrashed around at his feet.

Five seconds passed. Hiccup wasn’t spewing any apologies; just shrieking. He was writhing, clutched in agony, tears streaming down his face.

Ten seconds now. Viggo was impressed with his endurance.

_Perhaps he needs a little reminder._

He crouched down to be more level with him. He grabbed at his shoulder to hold him in place and put his other hand over his mouth to lower the volume of his screams. He wasn’t worried about being bitten. Dagur had certainly trained him not to. He said his words close to his ear.

“Hiccup, I can make it stop if you would just apologize to me.” The Dragon Rider was trying to wrench himself out of his grip, and he tightened his hold. “That’s not so hard, now is it?” He removed his hand from his mouth, expecting him to speak. He did, but it wasn’t the words he was expecting.

“ _Go jump off a cliff!_ ” he bellowed, pulling himself free and rolling away from him. Viggo drew himself up in shock. Hiccup's will was absolutely astonishing.

 _Alright then_. Viggo settled himself back against the table. He had no problem with listening to Hiccup’s screams. The pain he was putting him through was good payment for the death and destruction he had caused. Not even a minute had passed yet, however. There was still a chance of getting that apology he wanted. 

That would be something sweet, getting his opponent to say sorry for acting against him. He was considering not actually giving him the numbing venom if he did so. Perhaps he should just let him suffer. Teach him a lesson. One that would last hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually didn't make that stuff up about the Triple Stryke venom. There's information about it somewhere on the official website. Thank you, Dreamworks, for giving me to much to work with.


	41. Chapter 40

Never in his whole life had Hiccup felt agony like this before. It felt as if he was on fire, and he was a little surprised that there was no smell of his own flesh burning. It felt so real, as if he should actually be engulfed in flames.

_It’s not real, it's not real._

But his nerves, under attack from the venom, were telling him that it was. It really was.

He only stopped screaming when he needed a breath, which would result in only a second or so of silence. And, he wasn't a very religious person, but he found himself praying to Odin to make it stop. It _had_ to stop. 

But Viggo could be his only savior. It wasn't fair. It wasn't _fair_. Hiccup just couldn't apologize to him. He couldn't. That would mean he’d won. This was a battle. Not on such a large scale that they usually fought, but definitely a battle. It was proving to be the hardest one he'd ever fought in his life, and he was determined not to lose.

Hiccup wanted to die. That would be a permanent escape from this awful torment, and all the other tortures he was put through every day. He silently pleaded for Thor to somehow send down a bolt of lightning and strike him in the heart, though he knew that wasn't possible. He was alone in this.

He was losing sense of time. He knew it couldn't have been more than a minute that had passed since his anguish had started, but it felt like he had been trapped in it for much longer. Maybe he had been. He didn't know anymore. This was his current existence.

And all the while he could feel Viggo just watching him. He wanted him to go, to be left in private while he shrieked and thrashed. He didn't like that he was seeing him in this state. All it did was make matters worse. It was humiliating for an enemy to know what his screams sounded like, to witness how he reacted to pain.

If Hiccup couldn't die, he at least wanted to pass out. Was it even possible when the pain was this relentless? How long was this going to last? He supposed he could just ask, sure that Viggo would answer him. So far he’d been surprisingly honest to him about everything.

But he couldn't bring himself to form words. It was too difficult to interrupt his own screaming with something intelligible. It was like he’d forgotten how to do everything but that. 

He tried thinking of something else, but the thoughts wouldn't come. An image he attempted to conjure of a playful Toothless quickly vanished in flame. And so did all his other thoughts after that, his friends and family perishing in his own agony. There was nothing but this.

He was bound to lose his voice. It was already beginning to scrape against his throat, but he couldn't make it stop. Every time he paused to take a breath, he told himself he would clamp his jaw shut, but his mouth stayed open and his screams kept coming. He wasn't strong enough to stop.

Hiccup wanted someone to rush in and suddenly rescue him from this. He didn't even care if it was Dagur. He wanted for it to be stopped by anyone but Viggo.

He somehow heard Viggo’s voice over his own: “Would you like it to stop yet, Hiccup?”

He wished he could think of something clever and insulting to say to him, but his mind pulled up blank. It was too busy trying to fathom what exactly was happening to him. He just couldn’t believe how much it hurt. The pain from his broken fingers was dull and laughable in comparison.

Maybe he _could_ apologize. He could just say the words and not mean it.

 _No, no. Can’t apologize. Can’t._

It was becoming hard to think clearly, to even form full sentences in his head. He could feel his own mind slipping away. He desperately held onto it. He had to keep his thoughts going, no matter what they were.

_Astrid. Pain. Toothless. Burning. Dad. Hurts. Bad. Fishlegs. Stop. Snotlout. Stop. Tuffnut. Please. Ruffnut. Hurts. Fire. Hurts. Burning. Stop. Stop. Stop._

Viggo’s voice again. It somehow managed to draw his mind back to him.

“Hiccup, my dear, I can end your suffering.”

“ _D-Don’t call me that!_ ” he shouted. 

“Just have to say two words. You know which ones.”

“ _Shut up!_ ” Those were definitely not the two words Viggo was looking for. He wanted his teasing voice to end. It was making it harder to keep fighting. That was the point obviously.

Maybe if he found some sensation to ground himself to, he could get through this. The chain on his foot. It was cool compared to what he was feeling. The fur underneath him. It was soft. Hiccup found himself on his stomach and he grasped at the fur with his left hand, held on like the world was tipping and this was the only way not to fall off. Then half of his focus went to the metal cuff around his ankle. Hard, smooth, cold.

The pain didn’t lessen, but he couldn’t scream any longer. He was becoming too weak to do it. His screams died down into sobs that were broken by shuddering, heaving breaths.

At this point, Hiccup actually _wished_ that he was being burned alive. He’d probably be dead and gone already if that were the case. He’d be free of the torment.

_Hurts, hurts, hurts. Metal, smooth, solid. Hurts. Fur, soft, very soft. Please stop, please stop, please stop. Metal, chain, smooth, cold. Die, die, die, let me die. Hurts, hurts. Please, please, please._

Then suddenly Toothless was pawing at him, rumbling and cooing in his ear.

“Toothless?” Hiccup rolled over and opened his eyes to look at his dragon. “Why are you waking me up?”

The dragon nudged him with his nose and licked at his face. Hiccup laughed and batted at him playfully.

“Wanna go for a flight, bud?”

They were in the air, soaring through beautiful blue skies and white clouds, the ocean serene and sparkling beneath them. Hiccup closed his eyes and spread his arms, enjoying the feel of the wind. Now this, this was bliss.

 

Viggo placed his chin in his hand as he observed Hiccup. A half hour had passed and he’d gone mostly silent save for the occasional moan. He honestly couldn’t tell if he was conscious or not, as his face and body were still tensed.

“Remarkable,” he said softly to himself. “Utterly remarkable.” He’d never known of anyone that had endured the venom so long. Hiccup just kept on surprising him.

Curious, Viggo nudged Hiccup in the ribs with his foot. The Dragon Rider groaned, but didn’t make any other move. Still hard to tell if he was out or not.

Viggo sat down cross-legged in front of his face. He leaned over and smoothed his hair back. His eyes were moving rapidly back and forth under his closed eyelids. He was definitely unconscious.

He spoke to him even though he knew he wouldn’t respond, carding his fingers through his soft, auburn hair.

“I wonder, Hiccup, can you still feel it in your dreams?”

Viggo would be lying if he said he wasn’t completely enthralled by the Dragon Rider at the moment. His strength and durability was beyond anything he’d ever seen in a human. He’d only seen such feats of will among dragons, if very rarely.

“You are quite like them, aren’t you?”

Viggo almost didn’t want Hiccup to break under his or Dagur’s will. That would be the destruction of something truly incredible. He didn’t deserve to be chained up and used for someone else’s pleasure. But then again, extraordinary animals were often caged so that people such as himself could keep and admire them. And now knowing how far Hiccup’s strength went, it would truly be a victory to break him.

He admired and respected Hiccup, but he also hated him, was angered by him. He was his opponent in a war after all. 

“Hiccup, my dear boy, you truly astound me.” He wasn’t afraid of saying this out loud. Hiccup was still unconscious, still dreaming, so he couldn’t hear him.

Viggo was almost insulted that Ryker wanted to kill him, though he really couldn't blame him. It was in his nature. A vicious, well-trained dog killed its prey instead of toying with it or showing mercy.

He wondered when Hiccup would reawaken. There was no doubt that he would. His mind could only block out the pain for so long.

The Dragon Rider tensed and whined, twisting his head so that the side of his face was pressed against the carpet. Viggo moved his hand down to stroke at the back of his neck.

“Oh, Hiccup, if you would only give me what I want.”

Hiccup groaned after his words, as if in response. The broken fingers of his right hand twitched, left tightly clutching at the fur.

Viggo didn’t mind sitting and watching. He hadn’t grown bored of this yet. Maybe it was due to the fact that his anger and frustration kept waxing and waning, growing strong one minute and then vanishing the next. He’d never before felt so conflicted over one person. It was so new to him, and it actually frightened him a little.

“Maybe it would be easier if I just killed you,” he mused, which the unconscious Hiccup responded to with a pitiful moan.

But he couldn’t kill him. Hiccup was Dagur’s now, whether he agreed with it or not. Killing Hiccup would insight conflict with the Berserkers, which he certainly didn’t want. His peace with Dagur was already flimsy at best. There was no need to completely ruin it, especially if he wasn’t interfering with his business. Viggo never went out of his way to antagonize somebody unless they were causing him problems. And Hiccup and his Dragon Riders were certainly causing him problems. That had to end, and he preferred it to be sooner rather than later.

 

Hiccup clung tightly to Toothless’ saddle as they twirled through the air, his world dissolving into a blur. He laughed loudly out of pure joy. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so free.

He tried to pull Toothless up and out of the spin, but the dragon wouldn’t listen. 

“Come on, Toothless!” He yanked harder, but there was no response from his friend. The way the wind was hitting him changed, as if they were now diving downwards. Hiccup’s view was all twisting blue, the ocean coming up to meet him.

“ _Toothless!_ ”

They crashed into the water, but instead of cold, Hiccup was engulfed in heat. The intensity of it increased quickly until it felt as if there were flames licking at his body. He released a hoarse shriek, back arching. There was a hand in his hair - Viggo’s - and he angrily attempted to wrench his head away, but his fingers found purchase and tugged.

“Hiccup, open your eyes and look at me.”

Hiccup didn’t do as he was told, just screamed. He didn’t want to make eye contact with him when he was like this.

The hand twisted, pulling at his scalp. “Look at me!”

With a sob, Hiccup forced his eyes open. His vision was impaired by his own tears, but after a few blinks he could see Viggo clearly. His eyes were sinister, and there was something else there, but he couldn’t determine what it was, mainly because it looked so out of place. Pity? Concern? He couldn’t tell.

“Hiccup, would you like to save yourself?” Viggo asked him rather calmly over his exclamations of pain. “You’ve endured far longer than I expected you to, but there are still hours to go.”

 _Hours? Hours?!_

“H-how long?” Hiccup’s voice was an undignified whimper.

“Have you been like this you mean? A little over an hour, I think.” Viggo released his hair and Hiccup pressed his forehead to the ground, now allowing himself to cry without pause.

_I want to die, I want to die._

The experience was so excruciating that he was wondering how he was still breathing. How could someone feel all this and still be alive? It was unfair.

He flinched and screamed as a hand caressed the back of his neck. Physical touch somehow made it hurt even more.

“ _Stop it! Stop!_ ” Hiccup wailed. He didn’t have the strength to move away.

“Stop the pain, or stop touching you? You have to be more specific, Hiccup.”

“Just _stop…_ ” He pleaded. “ _Please!_ ”

“Hm, you see, Hiccup, I don’t think I want to.”

“I-I can’t-” _-take it anymore._

But Viggo’s horrible touching just continued, and the fire raged on inside him.

_Please stop, please._

Hiccup finally managed to roll away from him, now on his back. Once free from the contact, his screams died down into spluttering sobs. His throat was parched and aching, but he doubted he would get water if he asked for it.

He tried to ground himself to something again, but the burning was overriding all of his other senses. Everything else faded into the background save for that. Nothing else mattered.

 

“Hiccup, you know how to end this.”

Viggo hadn’t said anything in a long time, probably an hour or two, maybe even longer. Hiccup had unfortunately remained conscious.

He hated admitting it, but he was right. He did know how to end his torment. His will was crumbling and turning to ash. The words were on the tip of his tongue. All he had to do was say them and he would be free.

“I’m-I’m…” 

“Say it,” Viggo commanded.

But then Hiccup shook his head, a little bit of strength returning to him. He couldn’t lose this fight.

“Say it!”

“I-I’d rather d-die.” His voice was hoarse, a knife scraping against the inside of his throat. “K-kill me. Please.”

Astrid snorted. “Come on, Hiccup, Snotlout’s joke wasn’t that bad.”

“Yeah,” Ruffnut agreed. “It’s way worse when Fishlegs tries to make a joke.”

“Hey!”

“Guys.” Hiccup tried to have a scolding tone to his voice, but he just ended up laughing. It was good to spend time with his friends. The others joined in.

Then Tuffnut piped up. “Hey, guys, wanna hear about this weird dream I had?”

“Tuff, if this is the same one about your blanket and the winged troll-”

“It’s not!” He excitedly cut Snotlout off. “I mean, it has to do with the blanket, but it wasn’t a troll this time. It was yak-rats that took it!” He threw his arms out dramatically. “And for some reason I was in the middle of the woods, with this really weird music playing, and it was daytime, but the sky and the grass had switched places!” He doubled over laughing and Hiccup chuckled. “Isn’t that ridiculous?!”

“Oh, oh!” Fishlegs joined in. “One time, I had this dream that Meatlug laid like, a hundred eggs, but when they all hatched, none of them were Gronckles!”

“Oh my gosh! The rest of you have to share your weirdest dreams!” Ruffnut exclaimed excitedly. “I’ll go. I had a dream where _I_ was _Tuffnut_ , and _Tuffnut_ was _me_. We switched bodies!”

Tuffnut giggled. “Hey, sis, what’d you think of my-” He was smacked in the face by his sister before he could continue, and then the two were playfully batting at each other.

Fishlegs pointed to Snotlout. “Ooh, Snotlout! You go!”

Snotlout tapped his chin in thought. “Um, there was this one dream I had where I was married to Yakkity.” 

“Your pet yak?!” Astrid cried.

“Yeah, weird, right?” Snotlout agreed. “What’s your weirdest dream, Astrid?”

“Oh, um, I don’t remember a lot of my dreams.”

Ruffnut came over and playfully punched Astrid in the arm. “Come on, Hoff. There’s gotta be something in there.”

“Well, there was a dream where I was fighting with a sword instead of my axe.”

“Of course that’s what you dream about!” Snotlout threw his hands up, then pointed to Hiccup. “Hiccup, yours better be interesting.”

“It’s not really a funny dream,” Hiccup said, shifting in his seat.

“Oh, is it a sexy one?” Tuffnut asked with a wink. “Getting it on with the fine lady Astrid?” This earned him a glare from the woman in question.

“Ah, no, no. It’s more of a nightmare really,” Hiccup explained.

Fishlegs crossed his arms. “Way to ruin the mood, Hiccup.”

“What?” he asked defensively. “You guys wanted to know what my weirdest dream is, and I think that dreaming about Viggo trying to torture an apology out of me is pretty damn weird.”

All his friends fell silent, blinking at him in surprise. Then Fishlegs spoke, but it was Viggo’s voice that came from his mouth.

“Hiccup, this can end if you just apologize to me.”

“ _No!_ ” Hiccup shouted. At least, he tried to shout, but he couldn’t raise the volume of his voice that high. 

He was honestly surprised that he was still resisting. He wanted the fire to end so badly, but the only way out wasn’t something he could do. He would _not_ give into Viggo.

He wanted to scream, but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out. His chest heaved and he tried with all his might, but all that came out was a ridiculous-sounding squeak. And now he couldn’t close his mouth, couldn’t stop silently screaming at how he was on fire. Gods, it felt so real. Flames were greedily devouring every bit of him, burning through skin and muscle and bone. He wished that that were actually the case, that he was actually dying somehow, instead of writhing on his back and pathetically trying to scream.

Hiccup decided that he should probably just try to breathe through it if he could no longer make a sound. He couldn’t produce anymore tears either. 

He heaved air in and out through his mouth, back arching, eyes shutting tighter so that they ached.

 _“Kill me, kill me, kill me,”_ he silently begged, mouthing it though he could no longer speak. That’s all he wanted. He wasn’t asking for too much, was he? A snap of his neck, a stab to the chest… How hard could that be? Just for his heart to stop beating and his lungs to stop working so he could pull himself free from this tortured body. 

_Stop, stop, stop! Has to stop! Has to stop!_

Hiccup heard someone enter the tent, and his situation grew twice as uncomfortable. Two people seeing him like this.

“Uh, what the Hel is happening to him?” It was Dagur.

 _“Help me. Help. Make it stop,”_ he worded. He was so desperate for it to end.

“He’s suffering like a fool,” Viggo answered in irritation. “Triple Stryke venom,” he explained. “Nasty stuff, but it doesn’t cause any physical damage.”

“So, did you get anything out of him?”

Hiccup could feel Viggo watching him again.

“He has nothing to give me.”

 _“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”_ Silently mouthing it wasn’t actually saying it, right? He could live with that. _“I’m sorry.”_ It felt like he was begging.

Viggo could apparently read his lips.

“I’m afraid you’re too late, Hiccup.”

_“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”_

“Dagur, it’s no longer up to me, but if you want his pain to stop, make him drink this. It’ll numb him for a few hours, though he may be feeling residual pain for a day or two.”

_“I’m sorry.”_

Viggo’s next words were addressed to him. “Well, I’ve enjoyed our time together, but now I must go hunt down your little friends and their dragons.”

_“I’m sorry. Make it stop.”_

“Enjoy the rest of your evening. Oh, and Dagur, you might want to have his right hand taken care of.”

_“I’m sorry.”_

Then Viggo left. Hiccup looked to Dagur, begging as hard as he could with his eyes. The man looked at the vial in his hand, then came and knelt down beside him.

“It’s okay, Hiccup. I’m here.”

Hiccup tried to reach for the vial, to sit up even, but his body was out of his control, wracked with agony and convulsing. Dagur’s hand slid under the back of his head, and he gasped at the extra pain it caused, thrashed to try to get away.

“Hiccup, stop moving.” His tone was scolding. “I’m trying to help you.”

Dagur gently lifted his head and then the vial was pressed to his lips. The venom tasted awful all on its own and it burned on its way down his dry throat, but he was incredibly thankful for it. He wished that it would kick in instantly, but he would still have to endure this for a few minutes.

He flailed and kicked as Dagur suddenly had his arms under him and was lifting him up. Contact hurt and he reflexively tried to scream. All that came out was a whispery-sounding breath.

Despite his struggles, the Berserker handled him gently, taking him over to the cot and sitting down with him in his arms. Hiccup willed himself to stop moving. It was taking up too much energy and there was no point. Dagur held him cradled against his chest.

After about a minute or so, the pain was finally, finally receding, the fire dying down and losing its strength. He began to relax a little in Dagur’s arms. Soon he wouldn’t feel anything. What a relief.

There was the warm, tingling sensation washing through him again, and he closed his eyes with a sigh. It pulled all the pain and tension out of him, and when it left there was blissful nothingness. His breathing and heart rate became even.

“Feeling better?” Dagur asked.

Hiccup nodded, his voice completely gone.

“You did something stubborn and stupid, didn’t you?”

Hiccup couldn’t respond to that with just gestures of his head. Yes, it had been stubborn, but it hadn’t been stupid.

“And you screamed your voice out.”

He nodded again.

Dagur released a frustrated sigh that was almost a growl. “What the Hel, Hiccup? Don’t you have any sense of self-preservation? Ah, why am I asking? You’re Hiccup. Of course you don’t.”

Hiccup felt a little insulted by that. It was true that he could be determined and kind of crazy at times, but sometimes there were things that were more important than saving himself. This had been one of them. He’d proven to Viggo that he was strong, probably much stronger than he’d expected.

“You’re a crazy little bastard,” Dagur said with a tone of affection. Then one hand was under Hiccup’s chin and gently lifting his head up, and lips pressed into his. He was too weak to even pull his head back, and he couldn’t move the rest of his body, so there was no way he could resist. So he just took it. He even let Dagur’s tongue enter his mouth.

The kiss was slow and gentle, even loving. It was so different from all that he’d experienced in the past few hours, and Hiccup found himself sighing into it.

“I’m going to dedicate my entire day to you tomorrow,” Dagur declared as he broke away. 

_Oh great._ That was the last thing Hiccup wanted after this ordeal.

“I’ll treat you like a king, Hiccup. I’ll give you a hot bath with candles and flower petals, massage you, make love to you slow and sweet… Anything to make you feel just excellent.”

Hiccup wanted to shake his head - he really didn’t want any of that, well except the bath maybe - but the waking world was slipping away from him. Soon, he was gone in a peaceful, wonderful blackness.


	42. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say thank you to the people who are reading this and enjoying it! You guys are the best ever and you don't know how much I appreciate you!

Hiccup didn’t want to wake up. He wanted to remain unconscious and blissfully unaware of his painful reality, but reality was what was tugging on him, pulling him with an awful, crushing grip on his right hand. He tried to groan, but nothing came out. His throat felt like he'd swallowed thorns.

He just lay there unmoving on his stomach, trying to take stock of everything. The fingers of his right hand throbbed with a pain that yesterday had seemed so small, but now was drawing most of his focus. Though, they were bandaged, so he figured it could have felt worse.

There was a dull aching and stinging all over his body, and even in his face. He was hurting in places that he hadn't known were possible to hurt in. Again, he tried to groan, to make some exclamation of his torment, but the attempt was only a slight rasp scraping against his throat.

 _Great, I have no voice._ It wasn’t like Dagur actually listened to him when he told him no or to stop, but at least when he protested he would have less reason to think that what was happening was consensual. Hiccup couldn’t fathom how he could think that it was, that he couldn’t understand that he didn’t _want this._ It made absolutely no sense to him; it was difficult to really understand how far his delusions went.

Giving up on sleeping, Hiccup extended his senses outwards. He was alone in the bed, but not the tent, the familiar footsteps heading towards him marking the occupant as Dagur. A little bit of disappointment settled in him once he realized he wouldn’t be able to see Bryn that day. Not that he could talk to her anyway, but he liked seeing her everyday. Though, he couldn’t say that he was as upset with Dagur’s presence as usual. He found himself grateful for him having rescued him from Viggo the night before.

“Hiccup.” He said his name gently, and a hand stroked over his back. “You awake?”

Reflexively, he opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it again. In answer, he rolled onto his back and looked at Dagur. He was leaning over him, expression soft, even caring. It stunned him a little.

“How are you feeling?”

Hiccup pointed at his mouth, then shook his head, trying to let him know that he had no voice.

“What? You can't talk?”

He nodded.

“Are you still hurting?” Dagur questioned.

Hiccup nodded again.

“Bad?”

He shook his head. The pain in his body was growing annoying, but it wasn't bad, especially not compared to what it had been yesterday. He almost shuddered. He doubted he'd be forgetting it anytime soon. If he still had dreams, he'd probably have nightmares about it. 

“That’s good at least.” Dagur stroked along the palm of his right hand, which felt nice compared to the throbbing pain just above it. “Can you stand and all that? I can bring your breakfast over here if you can’t.”

Hiccup raised his eyebrows a little, giving him a slightly perplexed look. He pulled his hand away, unsettled. There were times where a more tender and caring side of Dagur would show through his brutality and mania, but that didn’t mean he was used to it.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” Dagur reached for his hand again as he asked the question, and Hiccup didn’t move it away this time. “I told you I was going to take care of you today, didn’t I?”

Hiccup gave a small frown in answer, wondering if Dagur would be able to know what the expression meant. He seemed to be good at understanding his facial expressions, which just served to disturb him. It was a reminder of how much time they’d spent together, how well they both knew each other.

“You don’t want me to, do you?” He traced his fingers carefully over the bandages, looking a little crestfallen. 

Hiccup shook his head.

“Why not?”

Hiccup didn’t know how to answer that with just gestures or facial expressions, so instead he yanked his hand back and rolled away from him. Though, he knew Dagur wouldn’t take the hint and leave him alone; he wasn’t at all surprised when he felt his hand on his shoulder, then his weight beside him and his body pressing into his.

“Hiccup, brother-” _Don’t call me that._ “-I just want to take care of you.” Dagur’s hand moved from his shoulder, his muscular arm going to wrap around his middle. His breath was hot on his neck, followed by the touch of his lips and the scratch of his beard. “Why don’t you ever let yourself enjoy anything? All you do is fight like I intend to kill you or something.”

Hiccup snorted with dark amusement. He _wished_ Dagur intended to kill him. He wouldn’t fight him if he did. 

“Hiccup, I’m being serious here. It’s not funny.”

Hiccup had the urge to elbow him hard in the gut. He was in a good position to do it and Dagur wasn’t wearing his armor, but he just remained still, wondering how he couldn’t understand how much he hated this, how much he hated _him._ Of _course_ he couldn’t let himself enjoy any of this. It would feel like a betrayal to himself, and then things would make even less sense to him than they already did.

Dagur waited for Hiccup to make some kind of movement, to respond in some way, but he lay still. Finally, with a sigh, Dagur let go of him.

“Whatever. Now come and eat before our food gets cold.”

 

Dagur was frustrated with Hiccup’s silence. He knew he couldn’t talk, but it still felt like he was purposefully giving him the silent treatment. It was probably due to the fact that he kept looking away from him and that he was shying away from most of his touches.

“Hiccup, what the Hel’s the matter?” he asked in slight annoyance. He was propped up on his elbow, laying on his side beside him. Hiccup was on his back with his head turned away, hands folded over his stomach. Dagur felt a little bad about the fingers of his right one being broken, but only a little. He figured that he’d probably had the power to stop that from happening, but had been stubborn and refused to. He wanted to ask him what had happened with Viggo, but that would have to wait. He hadn’t liked letting the Dragon Hunter chief talk to him alone, but cooperating with him had seemed like the best thing to do. He didn’t want to insight conflict when he already had his hands full with Berk.

Hiccup shot him a glare before looking away from him again.

“Okay, so you’re mad at me,” he reasoned. “Why? What did I do?” He had the urge to touch him, so he did, trailing his fingers over his chest between the part in his robe. Hiccup gritted his teeth and slapped his hand away. Dagur stubbornly put it back where it had been, tracing circles over his skin.

Hiccup gave him another glare, holding his gaze this time. He actually spoke, but his voice was no more than a whisper.

“You let Viggo hurt me.”

“No, I let him _talk_ to you,” Dagur said. “ _You_ let him hurt you. You could have just given him what he wanted, you know.”

“No.” He lost eye contact, turning his head to look up at the ceiling of the tent.

“No? Really, Hiccup? All you do is make your life more difficult for yourself.” His voice rose a little as he grew frustrated. “What did he want anyway?”

He waited for a response, but Hiccup didn’t say anything.

“ _Hiccup._ ”

“My throat hurts. Shut up.”

“Jeez, okay, _moody_.” Though he wasn’t usually one to drop any kind of argument, Dagur decided to let it go for now. He didn’t want to fight with Hiccup. His plan had been to relax for the entire day. While Viggo had been with Hiccup, he’d been busy making maps to keep track of everyone’s movements, and that hadn’t been easy: one marking down where the Dragon Riders had really looked, and a second with the fake locations he’d sent. He had to be very careful with all that. If he got confused and made a mistake, they would find out that he’d been intercepting their messages and tampering with them. He’d only intercepted two so far, and no one had come close to his actual location. He was planning on marking down his location as having already been searched only when they grew close, just to make it seem realistic. He knew they’d begin to notice something strange about the increase in “trade ships” between Berk, Berzerk, and Dragon’s Edge, but if they were searched, they wouldn’t find anything out of the ordinary. He’d sent out marked Berserker ships to Tyr’s Island to lead them off. They wouldn’t get there for a few weeks, but that was fine. He just needed something to keep his enemies busy while he thought of a plan to take them all out at once. All this planning was wearing down on him and he couldn’t decide what he wanted more: to embed his axe in something or take a nap?

Though, the nap could wait. He’d promised Hiccup a massage, and he really didn’t mind giving him one. Maybe his lover would take it as an apology.

“Hiccup, roll over.”

He looked at him and raised his eyebrows, but then did as he told him, positioning himself on his stomach. Dagur felt him tense as he climbed on top of him.

“Hey, relax,” he said softly, beginning to rub at his shoulders. “I’m not gonna hurt you. Honest.”

He felt Hiccup’s body relax underneath him and he smiled a little, then leaned over to kiss at the back of his neck. “Mm, Hiccup. My lovely Hiccup.”

 

Hiccup despised all the ways Dagur said his name, hated the “ _my_ ” he put in front of it, especially since that part was true. He _was_ his. There was nothing he could do or say to change that. He was “ _his Hiccup._ ”

Dagur fell into silence, didn’t say his name again, which he was grateful for. He let himself relax a little more underneath him, even allowed the release of a small sigh. He should just let himself enjoy this. It felt nice; more so after what he’d gone through yesterday. Sure, he was angry with Dagur for letting it happen to him, for blaming him for the pain he’d gone through, but he might as well accept this rare show of kindness. He let his anger fade into the background. He could be angry later.

Dagur didn’t touch him in any sexual way throughout the massage, and he didn’t afterwards either. He just curled up beside him and laid an arm atop him. Feeling strangely at ease, Hiccup fell asleep with the Berserker chief murmuring sweet nothings into his ear.

 

Hiccup woke to the gentle sensation of lips on his collarbone. He turned his head, shifted a little, as Dagur kept kissing him. He still had his robe on, but it had been pulled open, leaving him vulnerable and exposed. 

The almost-innocent kisses were nice compared to the slight burning underneath his skin, and so was the hand that ran over his left thigh. His body, now having learned that almost any physical contact meant sex, became aroused, and he would have moaned in despair had he had his voice. 

Now waking quickly, realizing what was happening, he opened his eyes and grabbed at Dagur’s shoulder with his left hand, right laying uselessly beside him. He found the Berserker naked on top of him, and he’d raised himself up on his left arm to look at him.

“Hey, Hiccup,” Dagur said softly. He pressed on his shoulder with his left hand, right still caressing his thigh. “Just relax, okay?”

Hiccup wanted to laugh at him, but instead he just frowned, tightening his grip on Dagur’s shoulder in hopes of leaving bruises.

“I’m not gonna hurt you.” There was a soothing note to his words that sounded incredibly out of place in his voice. “Relax. It’s not what you think. I promise.”

Hiccup furrowed his brow in confusion, but loosened his grip a little anyway. What did Dagur mean by that?

“Let me show you.” An emotion crossed over Dagur’s features that Hiccup had never expected to see there: love. But in the next second it was gone, and Hiccup was left to wonder if he’d even seen it at all, if he was just tired and imagining things.

Dagur lowered his head again, pressed his lips to the hollow of his throat. “Head back,” he murmured against his skin, and - Hiccup didn’t know why - he obeyed him. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh as Dagur kissed at his throat. He wanted to struggle and smack him and shove him away, but there was a dominating part of him that was craving something other than pain, and for once, the man wasn’t hurting him. He didn’t feel the familiar, frenzied gnawing of teeth - just a careful mouth. His body was finding this more arousing than the rough treatment it was so used to receiving, and his hips rolled upwards without his permission. Though, his control was quickly returned to him when his hardening cock rutted up against Dagur’s, sending an unwanted spark through his nerves. He pushed at him with his one good hand, twisted his head.

“Sh, Hiccup.” Dagur dipped his hips down, pressing his length up against his as if that would somehow calm him. “Don’t struggle.” He spoke with his mouth against his rapidly beating pulse, just beneath his chin. “Let yourself enjoy this.”

“I…” His voice was a hoarse croak, and no matter how he tried, he couldn't get the rest of the statement out. _I don't want to._

Dagur trailed kisses down over his neck, then took turns lapping at each of his nipples. Hiccup squirmed weakly underneath him, a ridiculous squeak leaving him when he tried to whimper. His movements resulted in Dagur taking ahold of each of his wrists and pinning them down. There was a little frustration in the act, and he would surely have fresh bruises on top of the old ones and the marks from rope burn.

“It's okay, Hiccup. Everything's okay.”

Hiccup decided that was one of the biggest lies he'd ever heard in his life, but he doubted Dagur knew that or even thought he was lying. 

He gave a small grunt as Dagur took him into his mouth. The man moaned around him, sending pleasant, awful vibrations up through his core. Hiccup managed a groan, attempted to pull his wrists free from Dagur's grip. He held on harder in response.

He was gasping when Dagur pulled himself up. He released his wrists, one hand going to his hip, the other grasping at his cock.

“Haven't had sex like this in a while,” Dagur commented, and Hiccup, confused, opened his eyes to watch what he was doing. He was positioned over him, and he gasped a little in surprise when he felt the head of his cock press against Dagur's entrance. It was stretched and slick - he must have prepped himself before waking him up.

“Stop,” he managed to get out. He didn't want it this way either. It felt more violating to him somehow. The last thing he wanted was to be inside of _Dagur._

Dagur, of course, acted as if he hadn't said anything, and Hiccup closed his eyes in defeat as he lowered himself carefully onto his cock. He tossed his head back as he became encased in an unwanted heat. Dagur moaned and he wanted to block his ears if it wouldn't look so ridiculous and undignified. Not that he had any dignity left anyway.

“See?” Dagur asked breathlessly once he was fully settled. “Told you it wasn't what you were thinking.” Both his hands were on his hips now, and Hiccup would have struggled if he wasn't completely trapped by the position. 

Dagur rolled atop him, and Hiccup hated to admit that it felt good. Better than good. He hadn't experienced anything like this in quite some time. If he had had more of his voice than a whisper he would have moaned. A mix of shame and lust heated his cheeks.

“ _Oh_ , your cock is so nice.” Dagur ran his hands up his torso as he leaned over him; Hiccup turned his head when he felt his breath on his face, and lips made contact with his jaw instead of his own. He was breathing heavily with his mouth open, the most he could manage to let out what he was feeling.

Dagur took advantage of that, grabbing his chin and turning his head back the other way, tongue invading his mouth. Hiccup almost bit him, but his left thumb twitched, reminding him of what would happen if he did. He didn't doubt that Dagur would cut it off if he did bite him.

“You like it like this?” Dagur's voice was quiet, almost a whisper. He bit gently at his earlobe, clenched his muscles around his cock. Hiccup unintentionally thrusted up into him and the way Dagur groaned right into his ear sent a shiver through his spine.

“You wanna be on top?” 

“No,” Hiccup whispered. He wanted to add “Get off of me,” but he didn't for some reason. He told himself it was because of the way his throat hurt, not because part of him was enjoying this sweet release from pain. This slow, gentle pleasure was like Valhalla in contrast to the raging fire that had owned him the day before, and his body was begging for him to let it continue, his tortured nerves pleading with him to just _enjoy_ it.

He gave in, breathing out a long sigh. He felt himself relax, hadn't even realized that he'd tensed up.

“That's it, Hiccup,” Dagur murmured against his cheek. He was slowly moving himself over his member. “Let your big brother take care of you.”

Hiccup found himself moving in time with him, and he violently shoved down the shame that tried to surface and put tears in his eyes. He’d only let that take him when he was alone.

Dagur pressed his forehead to his, hand going to rest over his brand. Each of his breaths was accentuated by soft moan.

“I love you, Hiccup. Gods, I love you.”

Dagur hardly spoke throughout it, which was strange for him. He never changed their rhythm, the steady rise and fall of him over Hiccup’s manhood as maddening as it was pleasing. There was something endearing in his touches and kisses, almost like he was making love to him. They reached climax almost simultaneously, Dagur grinding himself down hard, hands grasping at Hiccup’s waist. Hiccup arched into him, grabbing his arm just to have something to hold onto. Neither of them moved once it was over, just stayed there gasping and sharing each other’s breaths.

After a moment or two, Dagur kissed him, and it imbued Hiccup with all the terrible feelings he’d been blocking out. It was like his lips poured black smoke into him, and it felt like he was rotting from the inside. He wanted to scream, the emotions creating a sucking pit inside of him that he was falling into. Luckily, he had yet to hit the bottom.

Hiccup shoved all those awful things down so far that he became numb. At least for the time being. Dagur kept kissing him, and he wished he could stay numb forever, keep those emotions deep down where he’d never have to feel them again. 

 

Later, Hiccup hated himself. 

He lay wrapped in Dagur’s arms. The man had fallen asleep so, in a sense, Hiccup was left alone in the dark.

He cried. Not hard, as he didn’t want to wake Dagur. The tears were silent, falling fast, soaking the pillow beneath his cheek.

He hated himself for allowing himself to enjoy what had happened that afternoon. He hated himself for not fighting, for letting it happen to him. He hated himself for being weak, for giving in. That’s what he was. Weak. He’d succumbed to the pleasure in the aftermath of the pain and he was weak for it. 

_Weak._

He wanted pain now. Pain was the only thing that made sense anymore. Pain was what he _deserved_. He _wanted_ to hurt. He needed to.

But he also didn’t want pain. He didn’t want pleasure. He wanted nothing. He wanted to feel nothing. Absolutely nothing.

But for now, he did feel, and he hated it. He hated Dagur. He hated himself. 

He hated everything.


	43. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to update. I just have this lovely little thing called depression that takes away my motivation. Anyway, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!

Hiccup grimaced as he pressed the cloth to the wound in his left brow. He’d fought that morning, and though Dagur usually avoided his face when he wanted to hit him hard, he hadn’t that time, his anger getting the better of him.

He didn’t mind the pain that much though. It seemed like a just reparation for his weakness the day before. Though, he _had_ minded when Dagur had over stimulated him, which was something he’d started doing quite frequently. He could deal with pain just fine unless it was sexual in nature.

He removed the cloth for a moment, checking to see how much blood there was. A little more than he'd imagined there being, but that was fine. He put it back to the cut.

Hiccup lay on his back, though the position was uncomfortable. Then again, he was certain any position would be uncomfortable at the moment. He ached everywhere from Dagur's rough treatment of him, and there was still a bit of a burning left under his skin from the venom. His broken fingers throbbed incessantly. His already bruised wrists were rubbed raw and bleeding from the rope that had been used, leaving tiny rivulets of scarlet to trickle down his arms and into his hands.

Dagur had left a few minutes ago, and Hiccup was eager for Bryn’s visit with his breakfast. He wasn't all that hungry, but he was longing to see her. She’d be a more than welcome change from the company of the two scariest men he'd ever met. She wouldn't hurt him. She wouldn't touch him in any way he didn't like. She'd probably ask a lot of questions, but that was okay. He understood why she asked so many. He’d be asking questions too if he was in her place.

Then, her voice broke through his thoughts, and he smiled.

“Hiccup, are you decent? Are you, um… able to be decent?” She spoke from outside the tent.

“Yeah, come in!” he called, voice a little hoarse. He sat up, gritting his teeth to hold in a groan, and looked down to double check that his robe was covering everything.

“You sound cheerful,” she noted as she came in. She hadn't looked at him yet, was placing the tray down on the table.

Hiccup smiled, the expression genuine. “I’m happy to see you,” he told her. He didn't stand to go to the table yet. He figured he should wait for the bleeding to stop first.

Bryn didn't look the least bit shocked to see him holding a reddened cloth to his face. She had started getting used to finding various injuries on him, apparently. She came and sat next to him, and Hiccup couldn't help moving away a little, feeling as if she was too close.

“What’d he do to your face?” she asked, pointing.

Hiccup drew the cloth away for a moment to show her. She frowned.

“I didn't think the chief hit you in the face.”

Hiccup just shrugged. “Usually not this hard, no. The worst he does to my face is slap me.” It unnerved him how casually he said the words. Something like this shouldn't be _normal_ , but for him, that's what it had become.

“What about the day before yesterday? What’d he do to you then?”

Hiccup cocked his head a little. “What?”

“I, um…” She looked down at her hands. “I heard you screaming.”

Hiccup swallowed uncomfortably. He tended not to think about what went on outside the tent, as that world was unreachable to him, but he figured that it made sense that she’d heard him. A lot of people probably had.

“Oh, that.” He lowered the cloth to check for fresh blood and, not finding any, rose and went over to the washbasin. “That wasn’t Dagur, actually.”

“Who was it then?” He heard her coming over to him as he soaked his left hand and wrist in the basin. Some of the blood came off, turning the water a light shade of pink. 

“Dammit,” he muttered as he looked at the bandaged fingers of his right hand. 

Bryn came up beside him. “Do you need help with that?” she offered.

“Yeah,” Hiccup admitted a little sullenly. He didn’t like that he needed assistance, but he wasn’t going to deny it.

“So, who was it?” she asked again. There was another cloth beside the basin, this one clean, and she took it. Hiccup lifted his hand so she could soak it in the water, turning to face her.

Hiccup worked his jaw. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to talk about Viggo. Bryn didn’t say anything as she took his left hand in hers and began gently cleaning the blood off of his palm, waiting patiently for an answer.

“His name’s Viggo Grimborn,” he finally said, idly watching her wash away the blood. “He’s chief of the Dragon Hunters. I, uh… he’s at war with Berk too. Well, me, more specifically.” He winced a little as Bryn moved on to clean his wrist.

“Sorry. So he wanted something from you I’m guessing?”

“Yeah. An apology, actually.”

“An apology?” She sounded incredulous.

“For sending him and his men into a trap and getting a lot of them killed,” Hiccup explained. He flipped his hand over when Bryn finished with the underside of his wrist.

“Did you give it to him?”

Hiccup wasn’t quite sure how to answer that. He hadn’t ever really _said_ it, but he’d been mouthing it to him at the end, and Viggo had understood.

“Sort of,” he said. “It’s hard to explain.”

“Did Viggo do this?” she inquired, very gently taking his right hand. She’d finished cleaning his left one, so he lowered it.

“Yeah.”

“Why are you at war with him? And how are you even at war if you’re stuck here? Is he allied with the chief?”

“Long story, hard to explain, and no, not anymore,” Hiccup answered all three questions consecutively. 

“I’m okay with long stories.”

“I don’t really feel like telling it though.”

“Okay. I won’t push.”

Hiccup was about to turn away when she finished cleaning his hands and wrists, to get a towel, but he stopped when she raised the cloth to his face.

“Bryn, what are you doing?”

“You have blood on your face,” she told him.

“I can clean that.” He didn’t try to take the cloth from her though.

“It’s fine, Hiccup,” she said. “Just let me do it.”

He did, though he hated the tension he felt jumping up between them. Or maybe that was just from him. He also hated that it felt strange for someone other than Dagur to be touching his face.

She met his eyes, and it made his breath shake on its way out of his throat. There was an endearing look in them that he was familiar with from when Astrid or Dagur… Her gaze went to his lips.

He didn’t move when she leaned her head forward, eyes still on his, asking for permission. He didn’t know if he gave it, if he wanted to, but his eyes closed as her lips touched his, careful and soft. It had grown foreign to him to feel lips on his without a beard scratching at his skin. He hadn’t realized how much he missed it.

All thought left Hiccup, and he leaned into it a little. Her lips were fuller than any he’d previously experienced, and her touch was tentative, careful. He liked it, but his body liked it _too_ much. Feeling a swell of panic, confusion, and embarrassment, he pulled away, hurriedly distancing himself from her and turning his back. He gasped for air like he’d been strangled.

“Hiccup, oh my gods, I’m sorry!” Bryn exclaimed in distress. “I-I should have asked first! I didn’t mean-”

“No, Bryn, it’s not you,” he assured her. “I… It’s…” He inhaled deeply to try to quell his emotions so that he could at least talk correctly. Then he realized: “I don’t… I don’t know what I’m feeling.” He breathed deeply again, feeling on the verge of some sort of panic attack. His face burned red. He hated his body. He _hated_ it, and even more, he hated Dagur for conditioning it like this, for teaching it that any and every touch was a prelude to sex. With Dagur, it was. There was no such thing as a touch from him not leading to it. He wished his body could differ between Dagur and other people, but it apparently couldn’t.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I was thinking you felt the same way.” Hiccup barely heard her words, trying to make sense of everything. He didn’t speak.

“Hiccup?” Bryn approached him, placed a hand on his shoulder. He flinched, moved quickly away from her.

“Don’t touch me,” he hurriedly said. “Please, you… you don’t understand.”

“Then tell me. Help me understand.”

Hiccup hurriedly shook his head, panting. He couldn’t breathe even though he was breathing. 

_What the Hel is wrong with me?!_

“Go,” he gasped out. “Bryn, go. P-please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Her hurt was so strong he could feel it radiating off of her and hitting his back. He didn’t want her to feel hurt, hadn’t meant to hurt her, but he didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to fix it.

“Okay,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, _no_ ,” Hiccup stressed, shaking his head again. “Don’t apologize. You don’t have to. It’s me. It’s me and I’m really sorry.”

Bryn said nothing in response. He heard her footsteps retreating from him, leaving the tent, and then he was alone.

Hiccup clenched his left hand into a fist, felt the bite of his nails in his palm. He tried to focus on that rather than the burning urge in his body, the want. Except it wasn’t want. It was need. Dagur had enslaved him to his own body, and he was only now realizing it.

_No. I won’t do it. I won’t._

He clenched his fingers harder, till his arm was shaking, glad for his right hand being all but useless. This battle would be twice as hard if it wasn’t.

He stood there motionless for many minutes, focusing on steadying his breathing, on keeping his hand where it was at his side. His body begged and pleaded with him, but he didn’t give into it. He _couldn’t_. He couldn’t lose to his own body. And, in a way, he’d be losing to Dagur too. That made it worse.

Finally, Hiccup was able to uncurl his fist. It was a pathetic victory, he thought: a pathetic victory in a pathetic battle, but he was still grateful for it. He couldn’t imagine how much more he would have hated himself had he lost. He hated himself more just for having this fight in the first place.

Feeling defeated though he’d won, he sank to the ground and curled up on his side, burying his face in his arms. He didn’t cry. What was the release of tears going to do for him anyway? Usually, it felt good to cry, to let out emotions through the tears. He knew he needed to cry, but he also knew that he’d feel worse afterwards rather than better. He was at an utter loss of what to do, of what he was feeling, so he just lay there, silently wishing to never move again.

 

Dagur found Hiccup on the ground when he went into his tent that afternoon. Worry spiked in him and he rushed over, nearly tripping on the chain.

“Hiccup! Hey, are you okay?” He knelt beside him, put a hand on his back. He wasn’t looking at him, his face covered by his arms.

“Fine,” he mumbled out sullenly.

Dagur stroked over his back, hoping to coax a real response out of him. “Are you sick? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Yeah, okay,” Dagur said sarcastically, feeling a bit of frustration. He wished Hiccup would just talk to him. “What are you doing on the ground?”

“Maybe I like the ground.” 

“So… you’re upset about something,” Dagur reasoned. “Is it because I hit you in the face?” Hiccup gave no answer. “I’m sorry. I just… I get frustrated. I don’t understand, Hiccup. Sometimes you fight me, sometimes you don’t. It’s confusing.”

Finally, Hiccup moved. He sat up, shoved his hand away. There was anger flaring in his eyes.

“You don’t have any right to call _this_ -” he gestured around him- “confusing! It wouldn’t be confusing for you if you just listened to me!” Hiccup’s voice had risen to a furious shriek, and Dagur just blinked in shock. 

“You know who this is confusing for?!” he went on. “Me!” He put his hand to his chest. “ _Me!_ I don’t know what the Hel I want anymore, but I do know that whatever I want doesn’t involve you!”

Dagur felt hurt by his words. His face fell. For once, he didn’t know how to respond.

“Don’t just look at me like that!” Hiccup shouted. “Yell! Hit me! Come on!”

“Hiccup, I don’t understand,” he said softly. “Why do you want me to hit you?”

“Because it’s what you do.” His voice had lowered, but he was still seething. “It’s what you always do.”

“I’m not gonna hit you. What is this? What the Hel happened while I was gone?”

Hiccup looked away from him, sucking in his lower lip in a way that Dagur couldn’t help but find attractive. “Nothing,” he said after a moment in silence. “How could anything have happened? I’m just all alone for hours.”

Dagur sighed. “I’m sorry that I have to leave you alone, but there are things I have to do.” He reached up a hand, stroked his thumb over his cheek. “But I’m here now.”

He waited for Hiccup to respond, but he didn’t look like he was going to, so he leaned in and kissed him. His mouth was firm and unwilling. He pulled away a little, tried meeting his gaze but found that his eyes were closed.

“Hiccup, why don’t you kiss me back unless I tell you to?”

“Why do you think? I don’t like you.” He pulled his head away from his touch.

Dagur frowned, scooted closer to him so that their legs touched. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

“But I love you,” he told him, taking his face in both his hands. Hiccup didn’t move away this time, still didn’t open his eyes.

“Doesn’t mean I have to love you back. That’s not how it works, Dagur.”

“You don’t believe me, do you?” Dagur gave him a quick kiss. “Is that it?” Hiccup said nothing, so he kissed him again, and again. He gently pushed him down onto his back with one hand on his chest and another on his shoulder, climbing on top of him. Hiccup didn’t fight him, didn’t say anything.

“Hiccup, I love you.” He put a hand under his jaw to make him tilt his head back, pressed a kiss to his pulse point. “I love you. Please.” He didn’t know why he said ‘please’, what he was even pleading with him for.

Hiccup sighed as he sucked gently at his throat. Dagur moved his right hand under his robe, stroking over his abdomen. He realized what he wanted from him.

“Say it. Please. Say it back.” His voice was quiet, nearly a whisper.

“No,” Hiccup responded, just as quietly.

“Please,” Dagur said against his skin.

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.” He moved his hand lower, caressed his thigh. That got the intended reaction, Hiccup’s hips bucking upwards, a little whine leaving his lips. Dagur took that as a good sign; he grasped at his erection. Hiccup grabbed at his wrist, digging his nails in. Dagur pulled his hand off of him, pinning his arm to the ground.

“Hiccup, it’s okay. I don’t want anything from you right now. I just want to make you feel good. That’s all.” 

“I hate you,” Hiccup gasped as he vigorously pumped his hand over his cock. He was trying to pull his hand out of Dagur’s grip, but he wasn’t strong enough to. Dagur kept kissing and sucking at his neck, and his efforts were rewarded with a moan.

“Yeah, that’s it baby. Just let me make you feel good. That’s all I want.”

Hiccup twisted his head, panting, arching into him, still trying to get his hand free. “Oh gods, Dagur.”

“Say it.”

“No. _Aww…_ ”

“Please, Hiccup.”

Hiccup didn’t respond, just whimpered and moaned. He twisted underneath him, and Dagur wasn’t sure if he was trying to get away or if it was because he liked what he was doing to him. Either way, he liked the movement.

“P-please, Dagur, stop it.”

“Only if you tell me you love me.”

“Go to Niflheim.”

Dagur growled a little, nipped at his jaw. _Okay, so I have to try something else._

“Then I won’t let you cum until you tell me.”

“Fine.”

“Fine?” Dagur increased the speed of his strokes, and Hiccup cried out. “You’re telling me you don’t _want_ to cum? Who wouldn’t want that?”

“It’s because – _ah_ – you hurt me.” 

“I won’t hurt you this time,” he told him over his moans. “Just tell me you love me and I won’t hurt you.”

“That’s fucked up, Dagur.”

“Tell me!”

“No! Stop touching me!”

“ _Tell me!_ ”

Hiccup shouted when he reached his climax, struggling against him. Though, Dagur stopped his movements, waiting to see if he would give him what he wanted. He released his cock, caressing over the beautiful brand in his heaving chest. Hiccup just gasped for breath, not speaking.

“Hiccup, I’m waiting.”

“Do it,” he breathed.

Dagur was a little shocked. “What?”

“I’m not going to tell you, so just do it.” He had his head turned to the side, his eyes closed.

Dagur huffed, letting go of his wrist. “Well then it’s no fun that way.” He climbed off of him and stood, then looked himself over to make sure he hadn’t gotten any of Hiccup’s seed on him. 

He was frustrated. Dagur wasn’t used to not getting his way. People tended to give him whatever he wanted whenever he wanted it, but not Hiccup. He wondered if he would ever start giving him what he wanted. There had to be some way to get him to. If only he had somebody that he could manipulate him with. 

“Clean yourself up,” Dagur said tersely as he turned away from him. “I expect your lunch will be here soon, and you don’t want anyone seeing you like that.” Then, not waiting for a response, he left.


	44. Chapter 43

Heather stood naked in front of the mirror. She turned one way, then the other, running a hand over her abdomen.

“Shit,” she muttered under her breath. She was definitely beginning to show now. She’d been seeing it over the past week, but had been in fierce denial of it despite how her clothes felt too tight. She’d stopped wearing her armor a little while back, but now she’d need new clothes altogether.

Tears of anger and frustration stung in her eyes. People would know now. They’d question who the father was, judge her. At least they would never know whose baby she was carrying. They’d hate her just as she hated herself if they knew.

Heather didn’t really know how she made herself get out of bed each day, how she made herself keep going. She didn’t _want_ this baby, certainly didn’t want a life with it, but she had no choice.

“It’s not fair,” she said quietly. “It’s not fair for either of us, is it?” The baby deserved a loving mother, but she didn’t think she could be that, not when she hated it and loathed its existence. Maybe she’d be able to give it up, find a family that would want it.

“I’m sorry,” Heather told it. “It’d be for the best.” She didn’t know why she was talking to it, didn’t even know if it could hear her. There were a lot of things she didn’t know about pregnancy, and there was no one she could go to about it, save for Astrid, whose knowledge only went so far.

Heather dressed in her regular clothes, though they were tight around her breasts, abdomen, and hips. At the moment she had nothing else to wear. Her plan for the day was to find a seamstress that wouldn’t ask questions.

“Heather? You’re up already?” came Astrid’s groggy voice from the bed. She turned to see her sitting up, hair a mess, a hand over her mouth as she yawned. “I thought usually you slept longer.”

“I was feeling sick,” she answered. The tension and awkwardness that had sprung up between them had begun to dissipate. Heather had been trying her best to hold in her random fits of anger and irritation. She didn’t want to direct it at Astrid, and she certainly didn’t want it to get in the way of anything she had to take care of as chief.

“You okay now?”

“Yeah. I was just gonna go get breakfast and then find a seamstress.” She frowned. “My clothes aren’t fitting anymore.”

“Would it make you feel better if I went with you?”

Heather gave a nod, a small smile lighting on her face. She’d definitely feel a lot better if Astrid was with her.

“Okay. Just let me get dressed.”

 

Heather shifted uncomfortably as the seamstress, Katla, wrapped the measuring tape around her hips. She was a middle-aged woman with red hair, her shop in the finer district near the castle.

“Do you know how far along you are, my lady?” 

“Just call me Heather. Please.” She thought for a moment. “And no. I don’t.” Katla hadn’t asked about the father, but Heather was worried that she might. She glanced over her shoulder at Astrid, who was sitting in a chair nearby.

“I think it would be a good idea to get a midwife,” Katla said. “Pregnancy can be difficult without help.” She peered at the measuring tape, then jotted down something in a little notebook she held. She then moved to measure her waist.

Heather wasn’t quite sure how to respond. She hadn’t really thought about that. She didn’t really want a midwife, wanted to keep this a secret for as long as possible.

“I’ll get a midwife,” she told her. “Just not yet.” She looked to Astrid again, feeling nervous. She just gave her a little smile. Heather thought that maybe it was supposed to be reassuring, but it didn’t work. She doubted anything could reassure her these days.

 

Heather returned to the castle wearing clothes that fit her much better. Katla had insisted she stay long enough for her to finish a pair of pants and a shirt, and a dressing gown that Heather had requested for nightclothes. Luckily, she worked quickly, and not once had she asked about the father. Heather was to return the day after tomorrow to pick up the rest of what she had made for her.

“Astrid, have you considered that maybe we should search the mainland? You know, Greenland, Norway,” Heather suggested as they made their way through the castle halls. “I mean, we’ve searched a lot of the islands so far and have found nothing.”

“Do you think he went that far away?” Astrid asked.

Heather shrugged. “He could have. He’s probably really intent on keeping Hiccup from us.”

Astrid ground her teeth together in obvious anger and frustration. “Yeah, he is.” She was silent for a moment, and Heather could tell that she was thinking. “Or he could have him on a ship, constantly moving to make it harder to find him.”

“Hm. You know, speaking of ships, Stoick said in his last report that there’s been an increase in unmarked ships around Berk and Dragon’s Edge.”

“I’ve noticed the same thing here,” Astrid told her. “About a day out.”

“Okay, there’s definitely something fishy about that,” Heather said, feeling suspicious. “We should check that out.”

“Um…”

“What?” She glanced at her.

“Are you certain you should be flying a dragon right now?” Astrid sounded worried.

Heather shrugged. “Don’t know. Don’t care.”

Astrid lowered her voice. “I mean, I know you don’t care about the safety of the baby, but it’s your safety too.”

“Astrid-” She was interrupted as they rounded a corner and nearly bumped into Thorn. All three stopped, looking a little surprised.

“My ladies, what a fortunate surprise!” he exclaimed. “I was actually just looking for you. Well, the chief anyway.”

“What is it?” Heather asked, trying to keep her irritation from her voice. She wasn’t in the mood for attending to chiefly matters at the moment.

“There are a few farmers in the throne room that have complaints for you,” Thorn informed her. “I promised them that you’d see them today.”

“You better go take care of that,” Astrid said, and Heather gave her a small glare for it, but it quickly softened. She nodded. “I’ll see you later then?”

“Yeah. Later,” Heather agreed. She and Astrid had been holding hands, and she gave it a squeeze before Astrid released her and walked on.

Heather changed direction to head towards the throne room, and Thorn fell into step beside her.

“New clothes I see,” he commented.

“Yeah?” She tried not to ask it defensively, but it had come out sounding that way. She could tell there was more to it than him taking notice, and now, without Astrid, she was nervous.

“I can’t help but have noticed a change in your size,” he went on. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

“Do you really think it’s your place to be asking me that?” Heather asked as she stopped and turned to face him, tone hard. She lifted her head, made it look as though she were staring down her nose at him.

“I’m sorry for my boldness.” He met her gaze and Heather narrowed her eyes a little. “I’m just concerned with your reputation as chief. With child out of wedlock and the father a secret, it won’t look good.”

“I have bigger things to worry about than my reputation,” Heather snapped. “If you’ve been paying any attention the past few weeks you would realize that.”

“I know, but perhaps you should at least announce who the father is?”

Heather laughed at him. It was cynical, lacking humor. “Yeah, not happening. And believe me, I’m not gonna marry the guy who did this to me. I’m more interested in chopping his head off.”

“You didn’t end on good terms?”

“It’s none of your business what terms we ended on or who he is. Besides, that doesn’t really matter right now.” She inhaled deeply through her nose to calm herself. “Have the scouts returned or sent Terror Mail? We haven’t heard anything from them in a while.”

Thorn shook his head. “Still nothing. I fear something has happened to them.”

“Fantastic,” Heather muttered sarcastically. She began walking again. Sadly, that couldn’t be handled right away. “What is it these farmers want?” 

 

Heather hummed a little in contentment as Astrid worked at her lower back. Heather lay on her side in their bed, Astrid behind her.

“Thanks, Astrid.”

“No problem.”

“Hey, um, I’m really sorry for being snappy with you lately,” Heather apologized. “Everything’s just so frustrating.”

“Yeah, I of get it,” Astrid said. “Apology accepted.”

“Thanks.”

They were silent for a moment, but then Heather asked: “You haven’t heard back from any of the scouts by any chance, have you?”

“I would have told you if I had.”

Heather chewed on her lip, worry gnawing at her stomach. There was something definitely not right about that. “This isn’t good. Something must have happened to them.”

“Like what? They couldn’t have been found out,” Astrid reasoned. “They look like they’re on the same side as Dagur.”

That statement got Heather thinking. “Maybe… maybe some of them _are_ on the same side as Dagur. Or maybe _they’re_ not, but somebody else is.”

“Hmm. It’s a little out there, seeing as he hasn’t been here for three years.”

“I know, I know, but something doesn’t add up.”

“We can look into it if you really think so,” Astrid said.

“I don’t know though. Just…” Heather sighed. “Gods, why does everything have to be so complicated?”

“Can it be-” Astrid yawned- “complicated in the morning?” She stopped rubbing at her back, wrapped her arms around her, hands falling protectively over the bulge in her abdomen. Heather almost moved her hands away, but then decided to let her keep them there. “It’s late and I’m tired.”

Heather yawned as well, snuggling up against Astrid. A small smile spread her lips. “Sure thing.”

 

Heather was woken by a yell from Astrid and a movement that jostled the bed. Startled, her eyes flew open, and it took her a few moments to adjust to the darkness before she could make out what was going on.

There was a knife above her throat.

She gasped, but quickly realized that there was another knife blocking it, held by Astrid. Before Heather could move, Astrid launched herself over her and at her unseen attacker. They were both knocked to the floor, the shout of surprise that came from the attacker definitely male. Heather moved quickly, leaping out of the bed and going for her axe.

She could make out the scuffle on the floor by a patch of moonlight coming in through the windows. Astrid was on top and had the upper hand, but a cry left her when the knife slashed at her right bicep. She stumbled back and to her feet, giving Heather room to knock the knife out of the man’s hand with the blade of her axe. Before he could get up, she put a foot on his chest, extending her axe to its double-bladed form and putting it to his throat.

“Astrid, light a lantern. Quickly.”

She did, coming back over and holding the light over the man. She didn’t recognize him; he had his hands held up in a gesture of innocence.

“Who are you?! How did you get in here?!” It felt good to yell. Heather was able to turn her fear into anger. If Astrid hadn’t woken up…

 _He tried to assassinate me,_ she realized. Her worry that there was someone in the castle working against her had proven to be true.

The man said nothing, giving her a defiant look.

“Who are you working for?”

“The rightful chief,” he spat.

Heather sneered. _Dagur._

“Astrid, I think we should wake a few people and see if this place has a dungeon. We need to ask him some questions.”

 

Astrid winced a little as Hilda finished tying the bandage around her arm. Luckily, it wasn’t very deep and so it probably wouldn’t need stitches. The councilwoman had come down to the dungeon with them, along with a few others. Astrid was nervous, unsure of who to trust, and she could tell Heather felt the same way.

The council was tired and restless. They obviously didn’t like meeting in a dungeon in the middle of the night.

“Anyone here recognize this man?” Heather asked, gesturing to the would-be-assassin with her axe. He was chained to the stone wall by his wrists.

“That’s Falki,” Thorn answered, surprised. “He’s a servant. Or, he used to be.”

Astrid stepped over, studied Falki. He seemed close to her and Heather in age.

“Who are you working for?” she questioned.

“I already told you,” he answered with a sneer. “The rightful chief: Dagur the Deranged. The name ring a bell or are you just stupid?”

With a wordless shout of anger, Astrid backhanded him in the face. There were a few gasps from the councilmembers behind her.

“I know very well who he is so don’t give me that shit. You must be reporting to someone here in the castle. Who is it?”

Falki tightened his lips, gave her a stubborn look.

“Do you know where Dagur is?”

He shook his head, which resulted in Heather laughing at him from where she stood beside Astrid.

“I find that hard to believe,” Heather said, lowering her axe to his neck.

“I actually don’t know,” Falki said. He still didn’t seem the least bit frightened. “Honest.”

“Mm hm, because I’m gonna believe the guy that tried to kill me an hour ago.”

“I don’t know, okay?”

“My ladies, perhaps the interrogation should be continued without so many present,” Thorn said, sounding uncomfortable. Heather suddenly rounded on him, on the councilmembers crowding the cell.

“Falki works for one of you, doesn’t he?”

“That’s quite the accusation!” a councilwoman exclaimed, sounding offended. “Would we have really let you take your place as chief if we still followed Dagur? And how could we? He hasn’t been home in three years!”

Heather released a wordless growl of frustration, started pacing. “But it has to be one of you!”

Astrid put a hand on her shoulder as she passed her, and Heather stopped, looked at her.

“Heather, maybe we should continue this in the morning,” she said quietly. “You’re still all worked up from what happened.”

Heather tightened her grip on her axe, looked to Falki, then the council, then back at her. “Fine.” She turned a glare on Falki. “Expect to see me back in the morning, and you better hope my mood has improved.” She strode past the council and out of the cell, and Astrid followed her at a close distance. She wasn’t going to let anyone, assassin or otherwise, get to Heather.


	45. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those worrying about the ending, please don't. I'll get Hiccup out of here. It would be unsatisfying to me as the writer, and you as the readers, if he never escaped or was never rescued. I've got that all planned out. This is just a long story that isn't finished yet.

Hiccup pretended he was asleep when Bryn came with his lunch. He didn’t want to talk to her, especially not since it had been mere minutes since Dagur’s visit. He figured that she probably knew he was pretending, but she didn’t try to talk to him, just took his untouched tray from breakfast and left. The events of the morning had entirely ruined his appetite, so he didn’t get up to go eat. He didn’t care that Dagur would be mad at him for it.

Hiccup just laid there, trying to make sense of his feelings. The kiss, though it had been hours ago now, had left him reeling. He let himself admit that it had been nice, but that was really the only thing he was certain of. He didn’t know if he liked Bryn in that way or not, had never really thought about it before. The whole thing was utterly confusing.

He hadn’t moved from his spot when Dagur came back in the evening. He sat up and stretched, faking a yawn. He didn’t want him to know that he’d just been moping all day.

Dagur glanced at the table, then to him. “Why didn’t you eat?” he asked sternly.

“I was sleeping,” Hiccup lied.

“All afternoon?”

“Yeah. What? Am I not allowed to sleep now?”

Dagur raised his hands. “Jeez, okay. I was just asking. Are you sure you’re not getting sick or anything?”

Dagur’s concern curled his stomach. He hated that the man actually did care about him sometimes, would prefer it if he didn’t. It would make much more sense to him that way. How could someone that abused him constantly also have it in him to care for him?

“I’m fine.”

“Good,” Dagur said, coming over and sitting beside him. He wrapped him in his arms and Hiccup cringed. “Babe, just relax.” He kissed at his neck.

Hiccup snorted, but didn’t say anything. There was no point in arguing with Dagur. It never got him anywhere. That morning had just been a reminder of that.

It wasn’t long before Dagur was on top of him, inside of him. He hadn’t really fought him, and now he had him on his stomach with his right arm locked around his neck. His thrusts were pleasing and painful all at once.

Hiccup drew his mind away from it, separated himself from his body. He could hear himself still reacting to what was happening, but the sensations were far away. He looked around instead, trying to find something else to distract himself with.

His gaze landed on Dagur’s left forearm. It was pressed beside him, the tattoo visible. He hadn’t gotten a good look at it since he’d first noticed it, and now he took the time to study it.

It was a list of names, the first indistinguishable due to a scar that slashed it out. And the second…

“Oh gods.” He squeezed his eyes shut, his conscious mind being slammed back into his body. The second name was _his_. Dagur had _his name_ tattooed on his arm, _permanently written_ in his skin. He squirmed a little underneath him, feeling like he was going to be sick. He groaned.

Panting, Hiccup opened his eyes again, to keep reading the rest of the list, but it was all blurred out to him save for his own name. Though he wanted to, he couldn’t tear his gaze off of it. Horror and disgust ate away at him from all sides.

“D-Dagur, stop.”

Naturally, the chief didn’t listen to him. He just growled, bit at his ear.

“N-no, please stop.” Bile rose in his throat and he swallowed it back. “I-I think I’m gonna be sick.”

That made Dagur stop, but he didn’t release him, didn’t leave his body. The heat from him just made Hiccup’s stomach twist more violently. His name. He had _his name_ on his arm, in his very _skin._

“Hiccup, what is it? What’s the matter?”

Hiccup schooled himself into taking deep breaths. After a few moments he managed to get out, voice a pathetic whimper: “Your tattoo.”

Dagur snickered. “Really? That’s what’s got you like this?”

“I-it’s not funny. Please let – please let go of me.”

Dagur’s grip around his neck tightened, making it harder to breathe. Hiccup clenched his left hand in the blankets, right completely useless beside him. His stomach was starting to calm, but his emotions weren’t. 

“M-my name,” he squeaked out. “Y-you have my name…” He couldn’t finish.

“It’s me. What’d you expect?” Dagur resumed his movements with a grunt and Hiccup whined in distress. “You’re not gonna be sick, are you?”

“N-not anymore.” There was the unwanted sting of tears at the corners of his eyes, an ache building in his throat. He swallowed past it. He _couldn’t_ cry. If he started he wouldn’t be able to stop.

“Then after we finish, how about I give you a matching one?” He spoke with his lips against his ear, voice sending shivers racing up and down his spine.

“No, no!” Hiccup protested. He already had enough permanent things from Dagur on his body: the brand, the huge scar that ran from his pelvis into his left side – he didn’t need another. He would have struggled, but he could hardly move in this position, which would be the reason Dagur had picked it. “Please no! Ple-”

Dagur suddenly crushed his arm against his neck, cutting off his air supply. Hiccup choked, tried pulling in a breath, but that just resulted in a strangled noise in his throat. 

He wanted to scream. He didn’t _want_ Dagur’s name tattooed onto him. The crest already marked him as his. He didn’t need another thing on him, _in_ him, to do that.

When Dagur loosened his grip, he did scream. He screamed in terror and panic and pain. Dagur laughed in his ear before painfully squeezing his arm against his throat again. 

Dagur kept on like that, choking him till he thought he would faint, then releasing him for a bit before doing it all over again. At first, Hiccup would scream when he got his breath back, but now all he could do in those few short moments was gasp and heave, knowing that breathing would again be taken from him. 

He came with Dagur’s arm crushing his neck. He let go when he did, leaving him to release a strangled cry. Then Dagur let loose a yell, his name, finishing as well.

“G-get off me,” Hiccup rasped out. Dagur didn’t listen to him, and instead held his arm back at his throat. He pried at him with his left hand, just wanting to breathe uninterrupted. His vision blurred, his eyes rolled back, and he hung on the verge of unconsciousness.

Finally, Dagur let go of him altogether. Hiccup rested his head down, gasping for air, afraid he would lose it again. His chest and throat burned, and he slipped between consciousness and unconsciousness, wavered there, as if he couldn’t make up his mind. He’d gone numb, and he lost track of what was going on.

He came back to himself slowly. Physical sensation returned before thought did, so at first he wasn’t worried by the rope around his wrists and calves, or the fact that his prosthetic was no longer attached. 

His mind returned at a crawl, and he steadily grew confused. He had his robe back on, and he could tell he lay on his back, but not on any familiar surface. What were the ropes for? Why was he tied up?

A hand moved the fabric away from his right thigh, stroked his naked skin.

“Hm, right here seems good. What do you think, Hiccup? I mean, if you’re awake.”

Hiccup managed to open his eyes, the situation now making more sense to him. He was tied to the table, and Dagur stood by his legs… with a knife.

“D-Dagur, I-I thought you said it was gonna be – gonna be a tattoo.” He definitely didn’t want his name on him in any form, but a tattoo would be better than this. His heart raced.

Dagur grinned at him in that maniacal way of his. “This seems more fun. So what do you think?” He tapped his right thigh with the knife, just above his knee. “Should I start here?”

“No, Dagur, _please_ don’t.”

“Yeah, I’ll do here.” Then he leaned over him, pressed the knife to his skin. Hiccup closed his eyes, braced himself as best as he could for the pain.

Dagur dug the knife downwards and Hiccup screamed, tugged at his bonds. He wished there was a way to stop him from doing this.

The first wound hurt badly. The starting rune to Dagur’s name crisscrossed in the middle, and so he carved right through already sliced flesh. He cut deep too, obviously wanting to leave a permanent scar.

**D**

“Dagur, stop!” Hiccup shouted before the knife could pierce him again. “Please stop! I’ll – _argh!_ ” 

**A**

Dagur pressed his upper body into his left leg as he carved the next rune, and Hiccup tried to hold still. Movement could screw him up and make it hurt more than it already did.

**G**

The runes were progressively moving up his thigh. He was carving it so that it could be read from the side. Hiccup shrieked, wanted to beg for him to stop, but it was already too late.

**U**

One rune left. Despair rose up and swallowed him, and he finally released the tears that he’d been holding in all day.

**R**

Hiccup gasped for breath, sobbing. He wanted to ask Dagur to slit his throat, beg him to do it. It was done and there was no going back. He had his name in him. Forever. He’d marked him as his all over again.

He flinched as Dagur pressed a towel to his leg to stop the bleeding. He was glad that he didn’t make fun of him for crying or tell him to stop. The pain itself was in the form of his name, each rune burning in his flesh. His nerves screamed the name at him, and so he screamed once more. He didn’t just know that Dagur’s name was in him – he could _feel_ it. In a way, this was almost worse than the brand. Sure, the brand was his crest, but this was his _signature._

Dagur untied him and left, and he pushed himself up into a sitting position. He removed the bloody towel, staring at his leg through blurred vision. A chill overtook him.

Permanent. This was _permanent._ He had _Dagur’s name_ in his _leg._

“Oh dear gods,” Hiccup breathed. He wiped at his eyes, but the tears wouldn’t stop coming. The runes overtook his entire thigh, nearly reaching his pelvis. He tried to steady his breathing, but he just sobbed instead.

He didn’t even notice that Dagur had returned until he felt his hand on his face. He looked at him, trembling.

“Why?” he asked hoarsely. “Wh-why’d you d-do it? You didn’t – you didn’t h-have to.”

“Hiccup, you know I did,” he said softly, stroking his thumb over his cheek. He kissed him on the forehead. “It’s okay. It won’t hurt forever.”

“Y-yes it w-will,” Hiccup responded quietly. He knew Dagur wouldn’t understand though. Of course he wouldn’t understand the emotional torment he was putting him through.

“Sh, it won’t. Just let me bandage it, okay?”

Hiccup looked down at his legs, wiping at his face again. “D-don’t I have to st-stand for that?”

“Ugh, right.” Dagur smacked himself in the forehead. “Sorry. I just didn’t want you kicking me with that thing.” He went over to the cot and came back over with his prosthetic, handing it to him. Hiccup took it quickly. He’d been afraid he wouldn’t give it back. He went to reattach it, but realized that he needed two hands to do that. He looked at Dagur, silently asking him for help. 

He gave it without a word, helping him tie it on. Then he put an arm around him as he slid off the table to make sure he wouldn’t fall. He was shaky, and so he leaned against the table when Dagur let go of him and knelt down to bandage his leg.

Hiccup wanted to kick him, but he knew he couldn’t. He had nowhere to run to to escape the wrath that would ensue. Besides, Dagur was helping him, even if he was the reason he needed help in the first place.

He’d stopped crying by the time Dagur finished. He stood, placing his hands on either side of him, effectively trapping him. Hiccup had his eyes open, but he was refusing to look at him, over his shoulder rather. 

He was a little surprised when Dagur kissed him, had expected him to wait till after dinner before taking him again. He was still shaking, in shock from what had just happened, so he didn’t fight him when he grabbed him and turned him around. He shoved him down right into a puddle of his own blood and Hiccup whimpered. This reminded him all too much of the first time Dagur had ever done this to him. And, as much as he tried, he couldn’t blank out or pull himself away from it. He suffered through it, and all the while Dagur’s name burned in his leg.


	46. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I take no responsibility for Dagur being a disgusting piece of shit. And yes, I do still love him, probably because he's like that. That is all.

“Hiccup, wake up.” A soft, but insistent voice in his ear.

“Ungh.” 

“Come on. Wake up.”

“Dagur, leave me alone.” 

Dagur didn't respond, instead sucked on the shell of his right ear. Hiccup was laying on his left side, the chief’s arms wrapped around him and holding him close. They were both naked, and he groaned a little when Dagur rutted up against his backside.

Hiccup positioned his elbow so that it was digging into Dagur's stomach. “Fuck off.”

“Hiccup, remember you have to cooperate today?” Dagur reminded him. “You know, if you wanna keep your leg?”

Hiccup suppressed another groan at this. Still groggy, he’d forgotten about that. He put his arm back where it had been.

“There's a good boy.” The way he growled it made him shudder. “I like it when you listen to daddy.”

Hiccup opened his eyes, looked down at his right thigh. It burned incessantly, and blood had soaked through the bandages, staining them with a messy version of Dagur's name.

“What about my leg?” he asked quietly.

“What about it? _Agh…_ ” Dagur had continued moving against him, and he grimaced.

“Seriously? Are you blind? I bled through the bandages.”

“I’m not-” gasp- “blind. I'm busy.”

“ _Dagur…_ ”

“Hiccup, move back against me,” Dagur ordered breathlessly.

Realizing that his injury wasn't going to be seen to at the moment, Hiccup tightened his lips and did as he was told. He hated the feeling of Dagur hard against him, got absolutely no pleasure out of it. Though, he did feel pleasure when Dagur reached up and pinched at each of his nipples. He gasped, body moving into the touch.

In a few minutes, Dagur was climaxing. He whined, digging his teeth into Hiccup’s shoulder, as he came across his back. Hiccup gritted his teeth over a cry at the added pain.

Dagur released his hold on him with his teeth, panting.

“Oh shit, didn't mean to bite you that hard. You're bleeding. Sorry.”

Hiccup decided it was best to keep his sarcastic comment to himself. Dagur would probably take it as him not being cooperative, and he did really want to keep his prosthetic.

Dagur trailed one hand down to begin roughly stroking at his cock, twisting his nipple with the other. Hiccup grunted, bucked against him in surprise. 

“You like that, baby? Tell me you like it.”

“I-I like it,” Hiccup gasped out, barely hesitating. Keeping his prosthetic was more important than his own dignity.

“Good boy. Now say my name.”

“Dagur.”

“Mm, again. Moan it like a little slut.”

“ _Dagur_.” He felt the sting of tears, but he quickly dammed them up.

“Louder.”

He moaned out his name again, obediently raising the volume of his voice. Shame slammed itself against the wall he’d built, cracking it.

“Tell me you belong to me.”

“I belong to you.”

“Now tell me you love me.”

Not thinking, Hiccup opened his mouth to comply, but he clamped it shut once he realized what he'd just been about to do.

“Hiccup, tell me you love me.” There was a hint of anger in his voice.

“I-I can't.”

“Just three words, baby.”

Hiccup shook his head, bit his lip.

“You’ve done it before. Come on.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“ _No._ ”

Dagur growled wordlessly in response, and his touch no longer felt good. He was squeezing him too hard, the friction burning. Hiccup yelped, writhed against him. Dagur didn't tell him to say it again, just kept on with his fierce, agonizing strokes. Hiccup didn't bother to hold in his cries, saw no point to it. He grabbed uselessly at his wrist with his good hand, wishing he could use the other.

Though it hurt, his body reached climax. The pleasure was a strange contrast to the pain. He knew Dagur was going to keep going, mentally begged him to stop. He clamped down harder on his wrist when he did, just to have something to hold onto to help him through the pain. He was screaming.

It seemed like forever before Dagur finally stopped. Hiccup sagged against him with a sob, still holding onto his wrist.

“I hate you,” he breathed. 

“Beg for me to touch you,” Dagur told him, voice a furious growl.

“But, I…” Hiccup didn't want to. It would still hurt.

“It’s either that or tell me you love me.”

Hiccup swallowed. Any physical pain Dagur could inflict on him would hurt less than telling him he loved him. “Please touch me. _Please._ ”

And he did. Hiccup squirmed in his grasp, shouting. He didn't do it for long though, releasing him after about ten seconds.

“ _Beg_ me.” His voice shook with suppressed rage. “Beg for me to hurt you.”

“P-please, Dagur.” Hiccup was nearly interrupted by a sob. He couldn't believe he was being forced to do this. “Please hurt me. Please.”

Dagur touched his oversensitive cock again, working at him slowly and gently. Hiccup whimpered at the pain it created.

“Keep begging. And tell me you like it when I hurt you.”

“I-I like it. Please. I like it when you hurt me,” Hiccup got out. He didn't even really think about it, didn't have to. There was no way he was going to tell this terrible man that he loved him, even if this was the alternative.

“ _Good._ ”

“ _Please,_ ” Hiccup moaned, and only he knew it was a plea for him to stop. “Hurt me. I like it. Please hurt me.”

Dagur sped up his movement and Hiccup shrieked, arching so that his head went to rest against him. With a wordless shout of anger, Dagur bit hard at his neck.  
In a few moments, the pain began to trade itself in for pleasure, his body growing aroused again. He managed to stop screaming, gasping for breath.

“Is it feeling good again?” Dagur asked against his skin.

“Yeah.”

Dagur withdrew his hand and a whine left Hiccup’s throat before he could stop it.

“I can't believe you,” Dagur seethed. He was wiping his hand through the cum on his back, then rubbing his wet fingers against his hole. “I honestly can't. Do you like me mad or something?” He shoved a finger in a little too roughly and Hiccup grunted. “Is it a kink of yours?”

Hiccup ground his teeth together, didn't answer. He still held onto the arm that was wrapped around his chest. 

Dagur inserted a second finger. It hurt, and so Hiccup had to take a deep breath and will himself to relax.

“You’re gonna ride me, okay?”

“But my leg.”

“I don't care. Don't make me take your prosthetic. You know I will.”

Hiccup’s lower lip trembled. He made to move away from Dagur, to do as he said, but his arm tightened around his chest.

“Hey, I was just gonna do what you said,” he told him, voice slightly choked.

“Just making sure.”

Dagur released him and rolled onto his back, allowing him to move. He gritted his teeth as he climbed on top of him, body protesting the movement.

“You’re not allowed to break eye contact,” Dagur said as he grabbed him by his bruised hips, causing him to wince. He helped lower him down into his cock, and Hiccup was just fine with it, as it would have been harder to do on his own. 

He didn't wait for Dagur to tell him to move, began doing it on his own, staring at him. He hated this, hated the hungry look in Dagur's eyes, hated the way he felt inside of him, hated how he couldn't keep himself from moaning out his pleasure. 

“Hiccup, you look beautiful like that,” Dagur gasped. His hands tightened on him and he forced him to move faster. The wounds in his leg burned in protest.

Hiccup drew his eyes away from him without meaning to, the action rewarded with a hard slap to his rear. He yelped, eyes going back to Dagur's. He glared at him.

Dagur moaned loudly, thrusted up into him. “Oh shit, you look so hot when you glare, baby.”

At that, Hiccup instantly erased the glare from his face, and Dagur groaned in what sounded like frustration. He hadn't realized he liked it when he did that. 

“You wanna touch yourself?”

Hiccup shook his head. To him, that just added on to the humiliation of this whole situation. 

After a minute or two, Dagur had him stop, and he nearly cried with relief. That was, until he sat up and told him to turn around, making it clear that he'd only wanted a change in position. Hiccup was now settled with his back against him, his breath hot and heavy on his neck. With one hand, Dagur held onto his length, so that his movements forced him to thrust into his hand. His other hand was wrapped loosely around his neck. Hiccup definitely liked this position less than the first one. It felt more intimate having Dagur's body pressed up against his.

“Hiccup, you’re gonna cum like this.”

“Wh-what if I can’t?” he asked, remembering how it had been a problem last time he’d been riding Dagur like this.

“You will.” It sounded like an order. He nipped at one ear, groaned. “Oh Thor, this is excellent. Tell me that you're mine.”

“I-I’m yours.” Tears welled in Hiccup’s eyes and he stubbornly blinked them away.

“What was that? I don't think I heard you.”

_I hate you._

“I’m yours!” Hiccup made sure to shout it, knew that was what Dagur wanted. He wanted to stab himself.

Dagur stroked his fingers over his throat, began rotating his hips in time with his. “Yes you are.” His voice was practically a purr. “You’re mine in every way. _My_ Hiccup.”

_Oh gods, please shut up._

“Move faster,” Dagur commanded. “Make yourself cum.”

“I-I don't think I can,” Hiccup whined. He could feel his climax building, yet it felt distant, trapped. He just couldn't do it while riding Dagur. Though his body was enjoying this, it also knew there was something wrong about this situation, about him doing this of his own volition. The extra pain it created in his leg definitely wasn't helping.

“You can. Keep going.”

Hiccup wanted to protest, but he didn't. He hoped this would be over soon.

After a few moments: “Hiccup, come on. Cum for me. _Please._ Cum for daddy.”

_You’re disgusting._

“Dagur, I-I can't. Not like this.”

Dagur shouted, and then Hiccup suddenly found himself on his knees with his face pressed into the blankets. The movement had caused Dagur to withdraw from his body, and he shoved himself back in, hard and fast. One of his hands held the back of his head, the other working feverishly at his length. Hiccup yelled and writhed, hoping Dagur would see it as him trying to heighten the pleasure instead of trying to get away from it. Hel, maybe it was for both of those reasons at once.

“Tell me you want me to make you cum,” Dagur growled.

“I want you to make me cum,” Hiccup moaned without hesitation. 

“Are you close?”

“Yes.”

“Say ‘yes Dagur.’”

“Yes, Dagur.”

“ _Ah_ , good. That a boy, Hiccup. Yell my name when you cum. Nice and loud.”

Hiccup whimpered at the prospect of having to do that, at having to do it _soon_. Despite knowing it was useless, he tried to hold back his climax. It was difficult with Dagur consistently slamming his prostate, and he only managed it for a moment or two before the pleasure completely washed over him.

“ _Dagur!_ ”

Dagur came as soon as he shouted his name, cursing profusely. Then it was done and they were both left gasping for breath.

Dagur withdrew from Hiccup, and he heard him flop down onto his back. 

“Come here, baby,” he panted. “Come cuddle with me.”

Hiccup got his hands under him, being careful of his right one, and crawled over. Dagur had an arm reached out for him, and he settled down beside him, trying not to show how uncomfortable he was with this. Dagur draped his arm over him, pulled him close so that his head was nestled into his neck. His scent filled his nostrils.

Dagur released a long, contented sigh. “That was excellent, Hiccup.”

Hiccup didn’t respond, closing his eyes. He was tired, and he’d gotten used to falling asleep in Dagur’s arms a while ago. He figured his leg could be taken care of later.

“I still wish you would say you loved me though,” he said, stroking his hand over his back.

“Never gonna happen,” Hiccup mumbled. “Unless you like being lied to.”

Dagur huffed. “Whatever.” He pulled his hand away from his back. “Ugh, you need a bath.”

“You don’t exactly smell fantastic either.”

Dagur chuckled a little. “Alright then. A bath for the both of us. You can sit on my lap.” He laughed. “By which I mean my dick.”

Hiccup cringed at the idea. “But we just-”

“Hold on,” Dagur interrupted. He lifted his head. “Slave, get someone to bring a tub in here, will you?”

Hiccup’s eyes popped open. He hadn’t realized that someone had entered the tent. Knowing exactly who he would see and dreading it, he glanced over his shoulder. Bryn luckily didn’t see him look at her, as she was bent over in a bow. He quickly turned his head back around and buried his face in Dagur’s neck to hide it. His cheeks heated furiously red.

After a moment or two, presumably after Bryn left, Dagur spoke again.

“Babe, what are you so embarrassed about? All she saw was your cute little ass.” He squeezed the body part in mention, and a broken whimper rose from Hiccup’s throat.

“I-I don't like people seeing me naked,” Hiccup responded quietly. Though, that was only part of what was bothering him. Mostly it was because Bryn had seen him cuddled up with Dagur like this. Then he was led to thinking about the kiss the day before, and how he still wasn't sure what he felt about it. He realized it was because he wasn't thinking that far into it, that he couldn't get past the shame and embarrassment.

“Well, _I_ like seeing you naked.”

“I already know that,” Hiccup said in discontentment. 

Dagur's fingers curled in his hair, and Hiccup let him pull his head up, let him kiss him, though he didn't kiss back, didn't give him access to his mouth.

“Hiccup, why do you never kiss me back unless I tell you to?”

He opened his eyes at that, gave him a perplexed and astounded look.

“Uh, are you serious?”

“I wouldn't be asking you if I wasn't.” He was running his other hand over his ass and the back of his thigh, and Hiccup tried not to shudder.

“Well, for one, I don't like you. Two, I don't like guys, and three, I still don't like you.” Hiccup’s heart beat fast. He’d never told Dagur he wasn't attracted to men before, and he was worried about how he would take it. He instantly wished he could take it back.

Dagur mainly looked confused. “You mean, you’re not attracted to men?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“What do you mean, ‘why not?’” Hiccup asked, feeling a spark of anger. His left hand curled into a fist against Dagur's chest, but he left it there, knew he couldn't do anything with it if he wanted to keep his prosthetic. “We don't pick and choose these things.”

Dagur smiled at him in a way that made his hair stand on end. “I can change that, you know.”

“No, Dagur, I really don't think you-” Hiccup didn't get to finish, mouth becoming trapped by Dagur's. He pulled on his hair, making his scalp sting. Hiccup wanted so badly to bite him.

Dagur pulled away for a moment. “Hiccup, kiss me back.”

Hiccup glared, forgetting that Dagur found that attractive. “No.”

“Cooperation, remember?”

Hiccup couldn't keep himself from growling at him in anger.

“Oh shit, Hiccup, don't make noises like that.” Then Dagur was kissing him again, ferociously, shoving his tongue into his mouth. And, hoping for the millionth time that he would just _die_ , Hiccup kissed him back.

 

“Tell me where Dagur is!” Heather's shout was loud in the small space of the cell, and so was the sound of her fist connecting with Falki’s face. Astrid couldn't help cringing a little. She didn't know how much she condoned violence like this. Usually for her, intimidation worked just fine to get information out of someone, but Falki wasn't talking, and Heather was angry.

Falki spit blood out of his mouth, a defiant look on his face. “You can hit me all you want, bitch. Doesn't change the fact that I don't know where he is.”

“You’re lying.”

Astrid stepped up beside Heather, looked Falki over. “Maybe he’s not,” she said. She crouched down to be eye level with him. He was still chained to the same spot he had been last night, sitting with his arms above his head. “Who do you report to?”

Falki chuckled, glanced to Heather. “I see she's the smart one.” 

That landed him with a kick to the stomach from Heather. He choked, attempted to double over. Astrid spoke once he’d mostly recovered from the blow.

“Do I have to ask the question again?”

“I report to a few people,” Falki answered, and Astrid felt a slight sense of victory. “I’ve never reported directly to the chief. He wants to keep his whereabouts secret, so he has a whole chain of people to get him information. I report to one person, then they to another, and so on until it reaches him.”

“And who are these people?” Astrid asked, feeling as if they were finally getting somewhere.

“I only know of the ones _I_ report to.”

“Okay, then tell me who they are.”

“Not happening.”

With a frustrated growl, Astrid stood. She took Heather by the arm and drew her to the other side of the cell to talk to her privately.

“Heather, what do we do?” she whispered. “He’s giving us some information, but not enough. And I don't think he's going to talk even if you keep hitting him.”

Heather hit her bloodied fist into the palm of her other hand. “It's worth a shot.”

“No. I know you're angry and I'm angry too, but taking it out on him isn't going to do anything.” Out of nowhere, Astrid felt tears in her eyes and a lump in her throat, a swelling rise of hopelessness and fear. She fought against it, and since it was a battle she'd grown used to, she won, pushing it back down. It’d been happening more frequently recently, and she knew she could only beat it so many times before it would take her.

“Astrid?” She felt Heather’s hand on her shoulder, and she came back to reality to find her giving her a concerned look. “You kind of blanked out over there. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she answered, but then shook her head. “No, I’m not, but that doesn't matter right now.” She nodded her head towards Falki. “What do we do about him? We can't kill him. He could still be useful. He’s the only lead we have.”

“Maybe hunger will make him talk,” Heather suggested. “He’ll get fed if he tells us something.”

Astrid nodded. She didn't like anything about this, but she had to admit that was a good idea.

Heather went back over to Falki, but Astrid stayed where she was, still trying to shake herself from her own despair.

“Are you hungry?” Heather asked him.

“Yeah.”

“Good, because this is how this is going to work. You get to eat if you tell us something. If not, you starve.”

Falki narrowed his eyes and tightened his lips. He wasn't going to say anything. Not at the moment, anyway.

“Fine. Tell one of the guards if you get hungry enough to say something. Come on, Astrid. We're going.”

Once outside the cell, Heather instructed the guard there that Falki wasn't to be fed under any circumstances. Then she and Astrid made there way back up and out of the dungeon, heading for their room. 

The whole way, Astrid was battling with an onslaught of emotion. It came at her in waves, like a storm that had been building for too long, and in a way, it had. Astrid hadn't been letting herself feel much of anything for the past few weeks, and especially not anything about Hiccup, but now with someone that could possibly lead them to Dagur, to _Hiccup_ , it was all just coming back to her.

She set her jaw and didn't cry until they’d reached their room and the door was closed. It didn't happen gradually. One second she wasn't crying, and then the next she was on her knees in front of the bed and all out sobbing.

“Astrid? Astrid, what is it?” She sensed Heather beside her, felt her hand on her back.

She couldn't bring herself to answer just yet. Her chest ached with a very real pain. She almost wished she didn't know what was happening to Hiccup. Sure, that would have its own set of worries with it, but at least she would be spared the details of her imagination. 

Heather’s arms wrapped around her, and she leaned into her for support. She wanted to stop crying, to say something, but she just _couldn’t_. She’d held it all in for too long, and now it was coming back to bite her.

Astrid only stopped crying when she ran out of tears. She sagged against Heather, feeling as if she’d lost all her strength. She wondered how much time had passed.

“I just want to find him,” she said brokenly, voice a little hoarse. “I want Hiccup back.” It hurt to say his name; her throat constricted.

“We’ll find him, Astrid,” Heather told her. “Dagur can’t stay hidden forever, especially not now that we’ve captured one of his spies.”

“But I want to find him _now_ ,” Astrid insisted. She feared that Hiccup was losing more of himself with each day that passed, that he was breaking or already had. She wanted _Hiccup_ back, not some version of him that had been twisted beyond repair by constant torment. Though, she knew that it was already too late, that, whether or not they did find him, she’d lost the Hiccup she’d known forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tomorrow is the one year anniversary of my posting of this story! Wow! This is definitely taking me a long time, and I often wish that I could write faster, but I'm giving it my best. All the time it's taking is definitely worth it for me though, and I hope it's worth it for you too. Thank you for sticking with me for this long.


	47. Chapter 46

Hiccup somehow made himself eat as Dagur bandaged his leg. He was exhausted and didn’t have much of an appetite, especially not after the bath, during which he’d been forced to fuck him _again_ , but still, he ate, mainly because he didn’t want Dagur to worry about him. His worry for him was annoying at best and downright disturbing at worst. 

Also, he ate to distract himself from thinking about _why_ Dagur was bandaging his leg, about what was there. He made sure to not look at it, even after the bandages were put in place.

“That shouldn’t take too long to heal,” Dagur said, “seeing as the cuts are straight and not jagged.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Hiccup told him quietly. Finished with his breakfast, he set his bowl down beside him on the blankets. He turned his head away from Dagur, pulling his robe closed.

“Then what do you want to talk about?” Dagur must have noticed him struggling to tie the sash with one hand, as he was now doing it for him.

Hiccup frowned. “Nothing.” He pulled away from Dagur once he finished tying the sash. “Just eat your breakfast and go.” He laid down, yanking the blankets over himself. He felt much better with more covering him.

Dagur sighed heavily. “I get it. You’re upset that I carved my name into your leg.”

“Wow, you have truly unparalleled observation skills,” Hiccup said drily, closing his eyes. All he wanted to do was sleep. “But I told you: I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Well, I think it looks cool.”

Hiccup said nothing, just tightened his jaw. Maybe Dagur would stop talking if he didn’t respond.

“I’m not gonna apologize, if that’s what you want.”

_I want you to shut up and leave me alone._

“Whatever, Hiccup. Brood all you want. It won’t change anything.”

Finally, Dagur stood and went over to the table to eat. Hiccup drifted off quickly once he stopped talking. He was happy to fall asleep. He didn’t dream, hadn’t in a while, and so, sleep was his only refuge.

 

Though, upon awaking, he had to deal with Bryn. He could sense her in the tent with him before he even fully woke.

 _Great._ Hiccup didn't want to see her at the moment, didn't want to see _anyone_. He just wanted to be left alone to sort out what he was feeling, preferably for the rest of his life.

 _Maybe she’ll leave if I pretend I'm still sleeping._ But no, Hiccup had to talk to her, couldn't avoid it forever. So, resigning himself to being awake, he sat up and stretched out his arms.

“Hey, Bryn,” he greeted her, trying his best not to sound upset. He scrubbed a hand through his hair, which probably looked a wild mess, seeing as he'd gone to sleep when it was still wet. He stood to go get a comb.

“Hey,” she responded kind of awkwardly. She stood by the table, hands folded in front of her. “How are you doing?”

He limped over to the washbasin with a pained grunt. His leg was hurting worse than it had yesterday. 

He picked up the comb that was lying on the table, saying: “You know that's not easy for me to answer.” He made himself turn back to her, began running the comb through his tangled hair. He couldn't meet her eyes, so he stared at the freckle on her nose, hoping she wouldn't be able to tell the difference. He sighed, let his hand drop for a moment. “But I am sorry about yesterday.” He looked down at the floor, at his bare foot and the chain attached to it. “That was… my fault.” He didn't know how to explain what had happened without going into too much detail.

“I don't know. I think it’s mine,” she said. “Did I scare you? I should have asked first.”

Hiccup shook his head, found himself going to sit on the ground. He tried crossing his legs, but it pulled at the wounds in a painful way, and so he kept that leg straight and crossed the other one. Bryn walked over, moved to sit next to him, but hesitated.

“Is it okay if I…?”

“Yeah.”

Bryn sat down next to him, and he forced himself to not shy away from her. He picked up the comb again.

“I honestly don't know what I feel for you, Bryn.” He grimaced a little as he pulled the comb through a particularly difficult knot in his hair. “I mean, I-I like you. I like you a lot, but I don't know if it's in that way or just as friends. I don't even know if I can feel that way for someone anymore.” He looked to her, found that she had her head turned away. There was a tear sliding down her cheek. Seeing it made his chest hurt, and he dropped the comb to bring up his hand and wipe it away. “Bryn, I’m sorry. I'm still trying to figure this out.”

She took his hand, looked back to him. He made himself hold her gaze, stomach clenching and anxiety flaring hot through his veins. He expected to see judgment, anger, maybe even something worse, but there was none of that. There was hurt, but also understanding. She nodded, and he felt his muscles loosen with relief. Though, he gently pulled his hand back, feeling a little uncomfortable with her holding it.

“I’m sorry, it’s just…” Hiccup faltered, trying to find a way to explain. He looked straight ahead. “Physical contact is… difficult for me. It never used to be.” He clenched his hand into a fist, his anger rising up to take the lead in his constant storm of emotions. “Dagur ruined it for me. Maybe… Maybe if he hadn’t I-I could kiss you, but…” He trailed off, feeling at a complete loss. He relaxed his hand, drew in a breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Hiccup, you can stop apologizing. It’s not your fault.”

“Feels like it. That’s what he tells me.”

“But it's not true.”

“You don't know that,” Hiccup said, picking at the sleeve of his robe. He figured it must be his fault that Dagur had a sexual interest in him, that he must have done something to trigger it.

They were silent for some time, the tension palpable. Hiccup wanted to move away from her, but didn't.

“So what’d the chief do to your leg?” Bryn asked. “I saw you limping.”

“Oh. That.” Hiccup lightly placed his hand on his right thigh, the bandages covered by the robe. “Um, he, uh, did it last night.”

“What’d he do exactly?”

Hiccup worked his jaw, debating if he should tell her.

_What harm can it do?_

“He-” His voice cracked under the sudden threat of tears. He swallowed hard, throat aching. “His name,” was all he managed to get out.

“What?” Bryn was leaning close to him and staring down at his leg, her shoulder touching his. Hiccup felt uncomfortable with the close proximity, but he made himself stay put, telling himself that Bryn wasn’t going to hurt him or touch him in anyway he didn’t want her to.

“Dagur, um…” Hiccup couldn’t bring himself to speak, so, he moved his robe out of the way and bent his knee, began undoing the lowest of the bandages with his left hand. His lower lip quivered and tears stung at his eyes, but he held them back.

Bryn gasped as he pulled the bandages away to reveal the first rune. It was an awful sight, red and covered in scabs, the skin around it inflamed. It made Hiccup sick, but he made himself show the second, and the third. That was as far as he would go though. Going any further would risk Bryn seeing his genitals. Granted, she’d sort of seen them before, but that had been in a drawing done by Dagur that she hadn’t even been supposed to see in the first place, and he didn’t want her _actually_ seeing.

“His name,” Hiccup said again, hoarsely, gesturing to the wounds. “There’s, um-” he cleared his throat- “more to it, but…” He didn’t finish, didn’t have to.

Bryn leaned forward, gently touched an unwounded part of his thigh. He tensed and gritted his teeth, nearly jumped up and away from her. The broken fingers of his right hand twitched. Next she was going to move her hand upwards, under his robe and between his legs, not listen when he asked her to stop…

“Bryn, please don’t touch me there.” His voice was airy, panicked.

She quickly drew her hand back and Hiccup relaxed, nearly sighed in relief. Right. Bryn would never do any of those things. It was just the fearful, illogical part of his mind that was telling him that.

“Sorry. Does it hurt bad?” She sounded disturbed. “I can get you something for it.”

“No, I’m fine,” Hiccup hurriedly replied. He began re-wrapping the bandages, winced at the touch of them. “I mean, yeah, it hurts. It hurts a lot in fact, but I can’t… I can’t…” He paused to take a deep breath, realizing that he’d been breathing too quickly. “I can’t take anything that could alter my mind even slightly.”

“Okay.” Bryn nodded. “I get it. I just wish there was something I could do.”

Hiccup finished putting the bandages back in place, straightened his leg. “You can tell me what the weather’s like.”

“Cold. Hasn’t snowed in a few days, but the old snow hasn’t melted.”

“Dammit.” Though, Hiccup did need more time to figure out how to get the chain off of him, to pick the lock somehow.

Bryn pointed to the metal cuff around his ankle. “Did you find a way to take that off?”

“Not yet,” Hiccup said grudgingly.

“I could find something to-”

“No,” Hiccup cut her off, looking to her. “Bryn, absolutely not. We already talked about this. You’re not helping me.”

Bryn looked like she wanted to say more, but she lowered her head and nodded. Then, quietly: “I wish I could go with you.”

“Hey,” Hiccup began softly, taking her face in his hands. “I’ll come back and get you. Okay? I promise. You can come back to Berk with me. You can meet Toothless. Does that sound good?”

Bryn smiled brightly and nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Awesome.” Hiccup smiled too. He almost wanted to kiss her, but he didn’t. He knew that that would just cause the same problem it had yesterday. He let go of her. “Now, can you help me up? I think I actually want to eat.”

 

Hiccup was reading when Dagur came in that afternoon. He didn’t look up at him though, just kept on reading. Or, he tried to, but he found himself reading the same sentence over and over, anxiety curling his stomach. He heard Dagur sit down on the cot, which surprised him. He’d expected him to go over to him and take the book from him to get his attention.

“Hiccup.”

“What is it, Dagur?” he asked, feigning annoyance.

“Come here.” 

He put the book down on the table and stood, then somehow made himself go over to Dagur. He stood in front of him, skin crawling.

“What do you want?”

Dagur leaned back on his elbows, smiled at him. “Take your robe off.”

Hiccup held back a protest as he did as he was told, dropping the robe on the ground behind him.

Dagur breathed a happy-sounding sigh. “You know, I could never grow tired of looking at you. Now come straddle me. I want you to grind on me.”

Hiccup grimaced as he climbed on top of Dagur and closed his eyes. The metal of his armor was terribly uncomfortable on his naked skin. Moving his hips and grinding himself against him only increased his discomfort.

“That’s it, baby.” 

Hiccup tightened his lips as one of Dagur’s hands stroked over his ass. He hated that he liked foreplay, would rather just have him fuck him and get it over with. He almost asked him to.

“I wish you were good like this every day,” Dagur said longingly. “You know, it’d be better for you if you were.”

“Is that right?” Hiccup got out through gritted teeth. He was slowly becoming aroused by his own movements despite the discomfort of the cold metal on his skin. His body had learned that any touch there - uncomfortable or not - meant sex. 

“Yeah. I wouldn’t hurt you as much.” Dagur caressed his torso with his other hand. Hiccup wanted to cringe at it, even as his body longed for more.

“But you’d still hurt me.” 

“Of course I’d still hurt you,” Dagur said, even though it hadn’t been a question. He straightened, wrapped both arms around him. “I like to. Nothing personal. I like hurting everyone.” Hiccup gasped as he bit at his collarbone. “Though, you are much more fun than everybody else.”

Hiccup made a sound of disgust in his throat. He couldn’t fathom _why_ Dagur liked hurting people. It made no sense to him. Then again, most things about him made no sense.

“But anyway, how’s your day been, babe?”

_Really? He chooses right now to ask about my day? Why does he even care?_

“Uneventful, but I don’t mind really.” _Because it’s better than you._

“Yeah, I wish I could be with you more often, but you know, being a chief isn’t easy.” Dagur pulled him closer, and Hiccup, knowing what he wanted, tilted his head back to give him access to his neck. He couldn’t help moaning a little as he kissed and sucked at it. Part of him really did like it when he did that. “Too bad you wouldn’t help me with any of it if I asked. Two sets of eyes would make this shit easier.”

“What is it that you’re having trouble with?” Hiccup asked. He felt strange carrying on a normal conversation while grinding on Dagur, but maybe he could use this to find out some information. Dagur hardly ever talked about the things he did while he was gone. Maybe there was something he could use.

Dagur spoke between kissing at his neck. “So - you would - help me?”

“Depends on what it is.” _Come on. Just tell me._

“Well, I mean - it’s stuff that has to - do with Berk.”

 _Berk!_ Hiccup leaned into him. “What kind of stuff?” 

Dagur pulled away from his neck, and Hiccup could feel him looking at him, so he forced his eyes open to meet his gaze. He looked a little puzzled.

“This isn’t gonna bother you?”

“No. Tell me.” Hiccup smiled at him, kissed him on the mouth. “Please.”

Dagur blinked a few times in surprise before answering. “Okay, well, uh, the Dragon Riders are a lot more active than they’ve been in weeks. It’s kind of worrisome.”

“Why? They haven’t come near here, have they?” Hiccup tried to make himself sound worried rather than excited. If Dagur was worried, that could be good for him. Maybe he could even get him to tell him where exactly _here_ was. He’d asked Bryn earlier, but she hadn’t been sure, and he hadn’t expected her to know anyway. All she knew was that she’d never been here before.

“Some of them got a little closer than before,” Dagur told him, “but it’s fine.” He smiled deviously. “I have a way to get them looking somewhere else.”

“Really? How?” Hiccup began to undo Dagur’s belt as best as he could with one hand. He had to keep him talking, and this was certainly the way to do it. Dagur helped him with it, then took his hand and guided it under his clothing to grasp at his half-hard cock.

Dagur groaned a little before speaking, sounding rather proud of himself. “I’ve been messing around with their mail. All I have to do is say that they’ve already searched here.” His smile widened. “Clever, isn’t it?”

Hiccup froze, jaw dropping a little. He felt like Dagur had punched him.

_No wonder they haven’t found me yet._

“Hiccup?” Dagur cupped his cheek in one hand. “Everything okay? You said this wouldn’t bother you.”

Hiccup shook his head free, stood before Dagur could stop him, and stumbled away from him.

“Y-you’re…” He stopped and swallowed hard, unsure of what he’d been about to say. Then he glared, not caring if Dagur liked it. “You can’t keep that up forever. They’ll figure it out.”

“Oh, I know they will,” Dagur said, standing. “But that’s okay. I just need time to think of how to take them all out. Then I can take you home with me.”

Hiccup’s knees shook and he fell, expected to hit the ground, but found himself in Dagur’s arms. He shouted, wanting to hit him, but he kept himself from doing it. He had to keep his prosthetic. He knew Dagur would take it if he hit him.

He didn’t really pay much attention to Dagur as he moved him to the cot, placed him down on his back. He was too lost in his own anger and misery. He just closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, trying his best not to cry. He wanted to yell at him, unleash his anger, sob and scream, but he remained quiet save for a few pleased moans that he couldn’t keep from slipping out. But then:

“Oh gods, stop.”

“Hiccup, you’re not allowed to tell me to stop,” Dagur said huskily. His grip on his legs - which were held at his shoulders - tightened to the point of pain, his pace quickening. “Not today-” grunt- “anyway.”

Hiccup gave a cry and twisted his head. “No, no, please stop! I hate you! Stop!”

“Is this because you’re mad at me?” Dagur gasped.

“Yes! Now stop! Just _sto-op!_ ” Hiccup was angry, but he didn’t struggle. Maybe he could get away with yelling at him if he still didn’t move.

Dagur bent over him, forcing his knees to his chest. “You know, sometimes being angry can make sex better.”

“ _No!_ Stop it! Stop! Sto-” Hiccup was suddenly cut off by Dagur’s fingers in his mouth. He made a protesting sound before they went down his throat and choked him. He tried screaming around them but hardly a sound came out. Then, furious and panicking, he did something he instantly regretted.

He bit him.

Dagur yelped, instantly drew his fingers out of his mouth. Hiccup’s eyes went big and he gave him a pleading look, realizing what he’d just done. He watched Dagur’s face contort in anger, saw the veins bulge out in his neck. “Dagur, no! Wait! I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to do that! I-”

“You little shit!” He suddenly slapped him so hard in the face that he felt he nearly lost consciousness. He came back to himself only for Dagur to hit him again. “I told you not to bite me, Hiccup! Remember what I said I would do if you ever did?”

Hiccup moaned pitifully, a mix of pleasure and pain, as Dagur was still thrusting into him. He nodded, heart beating fast. He wanted so desperately to take back what he’d done, to go back ten seconds and correct it.

“Tell me!”

“Y-you said you’d cut off- cut off my l-left thumb.” Hiccup was shaking, horror eating him up inside. Dagur was going to do it. He was actually going to do it.

_Oh Thor, why did I do that?!_

“Exactly! So after I finish fucking you, that’s what you’re getting!”

“Wh-why don’t you j-just do it now?” Hiccup asked fearfully. He tried rolling away from him, but Dagur just grabbed onto his hips.

“You _want_ me to do it?” he asked incredulously.

Hiccup shook his head. He curled his left hand into a fist, felt his thumb press against his other fingers. He couldn't hold in a sob. He felt stupid. He hated himself. He was going to lose that just because of one little moment of panic.

 _Maybe if I apologized… No. I'm not apologizing to him. He doesn't deserve an apology._

_But my thumb…_

_No._

Hiccup cried harder as he resigned himself to it. He was going to lose his thumb. He was.

Dagur said nothing else as he continued assaulting him, and Hiccup was glad for that. He was left alone to fight against the terror, to try and keep it from swallowing him. He found something to focus on, to hold onto to keep himself from losing it completely: the rattling and clanking of his chain. He’d never really noticed it before, but it was a rather loud noise, Dagur's movements causing it to constantly swing and shake. It was a blatant, awful reminder of his captivity, but it worked as a grounding force.

Dagur didn’t bother to get him off that time, and though usually he hated it, hated that he was forced to climax, he almost wished he would do it. It would let him keep his thumb for a little bit longer.

 _I’m stupid! I’m so stupid!_ The feeling was so strong that Hiccup almost began saying it out loud. It just repeated over and over in his head. It was _his_ fault this was about to happen to him. It wasn’t anyone else’s but his.

He was surprised that Dagur cleaned him off before making him put his robe back on. Hiccup bent and picked it up from the ground with shaking hands. He tried to put it on as quickly as possible, but he kept fumbling, the fabric slipping. Behind him, he could hear Dagur sharpening his knife. He nearly threw up at the grating sound of it, but then took a deep, shuddering breath, consoling himself with the fact that at least he wouldn’t be doing it with a blunt blade.

“Hiccup, that was pretty much my one rule,” Dagur said, sounding disappointed. Hiccup flinched as he felt him come up behind him. “Don’t bite me or I’ll cut off your thumb. Not that hard to understand right?” He grabbed him by the arm, dragged him over to the table, and Hiccup couldn’t find the strength to fight him.

“I-I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I p-p-panicked.” Dagur forced him down into the chair. “P-please, I didn’t mean it.”

“Uh huh. Don’t believe you.” He grabbed at his left wrist, and Hiccup fought to free himself, but Dagur was stronger. “Besides, you still did it.” 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he wailed. Despite his struggles, Dagur managed to get his left hand down onto the table. Hiccup could hardly breathe.

“Put your thumb out unless you want me to get the rest of your hand too.”

Shuddering, sobbing and trying to pull in a breath, Hiccup did as he was told. He stared at his left hand through blurred vision, knew that this was going to be the last he saw of it with all five fingers.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered, though he knew Dagur didn’t care about his apologies. “So sorry.” 

He looked up, holding his breath as he watched Dagur raise the knife.

_Please don’t do this._

He brought it down.


	48. Chapter 47

“I love you!” Hiccup shouted right before the knife sliced into his thumb. He feared that it wasn’t going to matter, that he’d said it too late, that Dagur just wouldn’t be able to stop himself and would cut it off anyway.

Dagur stopped, the knife so close to his thumb he could almost feel it.

“What?”

“I-I love you.” Hiccup nearly choked on the words. He held in a sob and made himself meet Dagur’s eyes. He despised the color of them, though his own eyes were close to the same shade. “I love you, Dagur, and I _swear_ I didn't mean it. Y-you were choking me and I panicked. _Please_.” Hiccup felt a sudden, violent rush of emotion, but he held it back. Barely. He just had to keep it at bay until he was left alone.

Dagur seemed to have calmed immensely. He drew the knife away from his thumb, but still held his wrist.

“Say that again.” His voice was awed.

Hiccup didn't even have to ask what he meant.

“I love you.” He didn't know how he got the words out, how he got them out _evenly_. “I’m sorry. I'm so sorry.”

Dagur let go of his wrist, put the knife down, and Hiccup felt like a giant weight had been lifted from his chest. Though, it was soon replaced by another one, and he held back a whimper at the pain of it. It created an actual ache in his chest, like his ribs were being cracked under the weight of what he’d just said.

“Hiccup, you don't have to apologize.” Dagur's voice was soft, all anger gone from him. He moved Hiccup’s chair so that he was facing away from the table, then knelt down in front of him and took his face in his hands. It made Hiccup want to scream. “ _I’m_ sorry. I just got so mad. I-” He tilted his head a little, and it looked like there were tears forming in his eyes. “You love me?”

Hiccup nodded. “I do. I love you.” He somehow spoke through the self hatred that was trying to close his throat. He’d thought he’d wanted to die before, but _now_ … 

Dagur smiled at him, and it was a gentle, genuine, _loving_ smile. Hiccup somehow made himself smile back. He hoped it came out looking like a smile and not a grimace.

“Hiccup, I love you too,” he whispered. “I love you too.” He came up and kissed him, and Hiccup forced himself to kiss back. He was trying hard not to cry. He wanted to stab himself for actually saying it, for saying that he loved this _monster_ , but it had gotten the intended result - he still had his thumb.

Dagur pulled away. He stroked one thumb over his cheek, combed his fingers through his hair with his other hand.

“Hiccup, say it again please. I need to hear you say it again.”

“I love you.” Dagur kissed his face, and he said it again. He felt like he couldn’t stop now that he’d actually said it, and he didn’t know why. It was the farthest thing from true. 

Dagur pulled him to his feet and he said it. He hugged him and he said it. He tried to stop but something wouldn’t let him. His mouth kept moving, his voice repeating the same thing over and over.

“I love you, Dagur. I love you.”

_I hate you. I hate you so much._

Dagur was taking him back over to the bed, and Hiccup was screaming inside. Dagur pulled his robe off of him, ran his hands over his back.

“I love you.”

“I know, Hiccup. I know. I love you too.”

“I love you.” Hiccup’s emotions were fading away from him, and he let them. To feel nothing would be bliss. He hoped it would last, but knew it wouldn’t.

Dagur laid him down on his back, climbed on top of him. His movements were almost reverent. He kissed his neck.

“I love you.”

He kissed his brand.

“I love you.”

Hiccup said it with every touch, almost like he was praising him. He could feel the things he was doing to him, but he didn’t feel any emotion attached to it. He didn’t feel hatred or disgust or anger. There was just this empty void inside of him and those three words that meant absolutely nothing.

It was different this time. Dagur was gentle with him. He didn’t hold him too tightly or thrust too hard. Hiccup had become so used to pain that this was foreign to him. He’d begun to associate pain with sex, had started thinking that maybe it was _supposed_ to hurt.

He arched into him, moaning and muttering those three words that had let him keep his finger, sometimes interspersing it with Dagur’s name, just to give him more of what he wanted.

“I love you. Dagur, I love you. I love you, Dagur, I love you.”

“Yes, Hiccup. Yes you do.”

Dagur quieted him with another kiss, and he tasted something salty on his lips. The other man was crying. If Hiccup had been feeling more, he would have found it strange, but he was numbed inside, didn’t feel anything except physical sensation, and it was _good_ sensation. He didn’t think he’d ever felt something so _good_ before.

He was back at it as soon as Dagur pulled away from him, those words tumbling thoughtlessly from his mouth. His hips rolled up to meet Dagur’s each time his came down, and though he was enjoying the slow sweetness of it, he almost asked him to go harder. It was what he was used to.

They finished almost simultaneously, clutching at each other. Hiccup would have shouted out that he loved him, but the pleasure had taken his voice from him. He just gasped for breath and held onto Dagur with his left hand, glad that he actually could hold onto him, that he still had his thumb to do so.

Dagur relaxed on top of him, nuzzled his nose into his neck, panting. Neither of them said anything for some time, just trying to catch their breath.

“Hiccup, I’m sorry I almost cut off your thumb.”

“That was my fault,” Hiccup said, and he meant it. He’d known the consequences and he’d done it anyway, so it had to be his fault, right? Dagur was always telling him that everything was his fault, so it must be. 

“It’s okay, Hiccup.” He laid the side of his head against his chest, probably listening to his heartbeat. “It’s behind us now. It was a silly rule anyway.”

“Yeah,” Hiccup agreed. He was waiting for the violent return of emotion, preparing to fight it, but there was still nothing there. Where had it gone?

“I can't wait to take you back to Berzerk,” Dagur said almost absentmindedly after a moment or two in silence. He was stroking one hand over his arm. “We’d have a nice big bed with a mattress.”

“A what?”

Dagur lifted his head to look at him. “You don't know what a mattress is?”

Hiccup shook his head.

“Just like, imagine it as a giant pillow put over the bed frame,” Dagur explained. “It's nice and soft. Damn, do I miss having one.” He laid his head down on him again. “I miss my bed back at home. It was huge. Could probably fit three people.”

“Why on earth would you need a bed that size?” Hiccup asked with a small laugh. It seemed ridiculous, unreasonable.

“I’m the chief. Of course I get a bed that size. I get to live in luxury.”

“How big is your house?”

Dagur laughed, and Hiccup could feel the vibrations of it in his chest.

“Houses are for the common people, Hiccup. I have a castle,” he answered in amusement. “Though, you probably don't even know what that is, right? I mean, us Berserkers are like, five times or more richer than you guys on Berk.”

Hiccup frowned, not liking the comparison to his people. “Okay, so, how big is this castle?”

“Bigger than the inside of your Great Hall, that’s for sure.”

“And you live there by yourself?” he asked in disbelief.

“Of course not,” Dagur replied, sounding amused. “I’ve got servants and slaves. A lot of the nobility live there too.”

Hiccup was utterly baffled by all of this. He’d never really pictured what Dagur’s life had been like on Berzerk, but what he had imagined hadn't been anything close to this. He figured they’d lived pretty similarly, but what he was talking about made it seem like he’d been a peasant back on Berk instead of its prince.

“So what? You’ll just chain me up in your bedroom?”

Dagur chuckled. “Don't be silly, Hiccup. I won't have to chain you up. You wouldn't be able to leave the castle grounds even if you wanted to.”

“Then what the Hel makes you think I can just waltz out of here? You have guards outside, don't you?”

Dagur lifted himself up on his arms, looked back to the chain on Hiccup’s ankle. “You have a good point, actually. I keep the key in my command tent. I’ll take that off after dinner, okay?”

Hiccup felt a sudden swell of happiness. _He_ didn't have to find a way to get that off! Dagur was going to do it for him!

He nodded excitedly. He expected Dagur to settle back down on him, but he climbed off, tucking himself back into his pants. 

“Well, I still have a few more things I have to do,” he said. He paused for a moment, then shook his head a little. “Damn, this was kind of crazy, wasn't it?”

“Only kind of?”

“Okay, it was really crazy,” Dagur corrected. He bent down and kissed Hiccup on the lips, touching his face as he did so. “I’ll see you in, uh, maybe two hours.” He smiled brightly at him as he straightened. “Say it again.”

“I…” There it was. The return of emotion. The violent, unending storm inside of him. Hiccup’s chest hurt; his throat attempted to close. “I love you.” He didn't know how he got it out clearly or without choking up. The _pain_ of it! He’d never felt anything like it before, and so he was grateful when Dagur said nothing else and left.

Hiccup curled on his left side, trying to make himself as small as possible. The tears came almost impossibly fast once he was alone. He’d done it. Of his own volition. He’d said he _loved Dagur._

 _Oh gods, oh gods…_

There was no wall for the emotions to pound against and crack this time - it had crumbled and collapsed with one of the first ‘I love you’s’ - and so they cascaded over him in a relentless torrent. He felt like he was being torn away by it, eroded and erased. 

He shook hard, clenched his jaw. Strange, inhuman whimpering sounds reached his ears, and it took him longer than it should have to realize that he was making them. He struggled to keep it all in, at least for just a little bit longer. He had to wait for Dagur to be far enough away to not hear his screams.

A muffled, grating screech made it through Hiccup’s teeth, a high-pitched noise that didn't even sound like it came from him. He shoved down any more, shaking harder with the struggle.

_Not yet. Five minutes. Hold it in for five minutes._

He somehow endured those few minutes, his thoughts torturing him. All he could hear was the way he’d said it, and on the backs of his eyelids he saw Dagur smiling at him. 

He tried reconstructing the wall, but the dark water was everywhere, sucking him down, and he floundered in it, couldn't find the pieces he needed. He realized with an icy, resonating horror that he’d broken. Dagur had broken him.

Hiccup screamed now, screamed so hard he felt like his sides would split. He screamed in absolute agony. His body hurt, but it was the emotional pain that was unimaginable, the torment on his soul that had finally splintered him to pieces. 

_I’m broken! He broke me!_

That scared him to no end, made him panic. He went to a different place in his mind as he screamed, the place where the wall had been.

 

_Hiccup was on all fours, searching through the rushing water with his hands. It was bitingly cold, and so black he couldn't see through it. He looked frantically for the pieces of himself, hoping that they were still there, that the flood hadn't carried them off._

_He could still hear himself screaming, but he wasn't doing it. Not in here at least._

_He hit something with one hand, a piece of stone. He grabbed at it, feeling a swell of hope burst through the constricting pain in his chest. He drew it out of the water and clutched it to himself, then continued on looking for more._

_Hiccup found more pieces of stone, and he held them tight in one arm. One fell and he panicked, scrambled around in the water for it. The black tide was steadily rising, threatening to overtake him if he stayed on his knees. Once he recovered the stone he’d dropped, he tried to stand, but couldn't, found himself stuck on his knees. His own screaming seemed even louder._

_Hiccup worked harder to find more pieces of himself amidst the freezing torrent. If this had been real water he would have started losing feeling already._

_He couldn't hold all the stones in one arm and continue searching anymore. He held them in both arms, straightened and looked down at them. It seemed like such a pitiful few, not enough to fully reconstruct his wall, but he would have to try._

_He began to build, working against the relentless river of despair. Though he had nothing to hold the stones in place, the current didn't sweep them away. They stayed put, and so he continued building._

_Once done placing all of the stones, Hiccup found that he could stand. The water was lower now, rushing around his ankle and pulling at his chain. It threatened to knock him over, but he remained standing, and went in search of more stone. He didn't think he’d be able to make his wall as big as it had been before, but it would be better than nothing._

 

“Hiccup? Hiccup, talk to me! Come on!” Dagur grabbed at Hiccup’s face with both hands. His skin was as cold as if he’d been outside and putting his face in the snow, and he was trembling violently. His eyes were open, but he stared straight ahead, foggy and unseeing. He’d stopped screaming almost as soon as Dagur had entered the tent, and now he was just making odd whimpering noises.

“What happened?!” Dagur shouted at the guard standing behind him. He’d barely been gone ten minutes when he’d been summoned by one of them. The other had gone to get a doctor.

“I already told you I don’t know! He just started screaming!”

Dagur released Hiccup, whipping around with a snarl. “And how long was he screaming before you decided to come and get me?”

“Um, a few minutes, my lord,” the guard answered fearfully. 

“And you didn't think to get me till now?!” Dagur's rage surged up, and he felt his fist connect with the man’s nose before he could stop himself. There was a satisfying crack and a small spray of blood. The man gave a cry, clutched his nose and stumbled away from him. “You fucking imbecile! What if someone had come in here and was trying to kill him or something?!”

“N-no one came in, my lord,” the guard responded, voice, nearly a pained moan, muffled by his hand. “Y-you left and then he just-” He gestured to Hiccup in way of an explanation.

“ _Argh!_ ” Dagur clutched at his head in frustration, paced in a circle before turning back to the guard. “You’re supposed to come in here if _anything_ sounds out of the ordinary!” He was shrieking now. “Absolutely _anything!_ ”

“Sir, I-I’m sorry!”

“I don't want to hear it!” Dagur pointed. “ _Now get out before I break your fucking neck!_ ”

“Y-yes, sir.”

Dagur didn't watch him leave, turning back to Hiccup. He cursed himself for abandoning him in his anger, even if it had hardly been for a minute. He was still making those strange noises, and tears slid down his cheeks.

“Hiccup, come on.” He knelt in front of him, snapped his fingers in front of his face. He didn't even blink. “Hiccup, you’re scaring me! Come on!” He couldn't help it: he slapped him. It wasn't very hard, and it had no effect. “ _Hiccup!_ ” No response. He just whimpered. That let him know that he was still breathing at least.

Dagur yanked the blankets and furs over him. “Hiccup, what happened to you? What happened?” He gave no answer, and Dagur stuck his hands under the blankets to rub them over his arms and shoulders to try and warm him. How had he gotten so cold so fast?

He gave a growl before whipping his head around and roaring: “Where’s the doctor?!”

“Right here!” came a feminine voice from outside. Then a woman with red hair, possibly the same one that had treated Hiccup before, rushed in. Dagur felt a swell of relief.

“Come tell me what the Hel’s wrong with him!”

She hurried forward, and Dagur shifted out of her way. The first thing she did was put her fingers to Hiccup’s neck to check his pulse. Then she grabbed his wrist and did the same. His arm was limp.

“Hiccup?”

_So it is the same doctor. Either that or she just heard me shouting._

Hiccup didn't respond. The doctor waved her hand in front of his face, snapped her fingers. Hiccup didn't blink, still staring blankly. Dagur waited with bated breath to hear what was wrong with him, felt an anxious sweat start on his forehead.

_Hiccup, please be okay. Please be okay._

She touched his face, which made Dagur bristle a little, but he let her do it. Then she nodded, as if having confirmed something to herself.

“He’s in severe shock,” she said. “There's nothing we can do to pull him out of it.”

“What?!” Dagur shrieked. “Nothing?!”

The woman flinched a little at his outburst, but turned to face him regardless. “He’ll come out of it on his own. There's not much we can do but wait and make sure he gets warm.”

“So, he’ll be okay?” Dagur questioned tentatively.

“Physically, yes, but mentally…” She trailed off.

“What? What is it?”

“Well I'm not sure what caused the shock. I can check for physical injury on him.” She reached to pull back the blankets, but Dagur’s hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.

“He’s fine,” he said forcefully, nearly a demand. 

“You’re sure he hasn't been hurt in the past hour or so?”

“Yeah. I was with him.” Dagur let go of her, and she pulled back her wrist, rubbing at it.

“So it must be something mental that did this,” she said.

_Mental?_

Dagur didn't question this out loud though, wanting nothing more than to be left alone with his Hiccup to warm him up and make sure he’d be okay. 

“I’ll worry about getting him warm,” Dagur said. “Just…” He sighed. He didn't do this very often, usually saw no need for it, but: “Thank you.”

The doctor blinked at him in shock, but he waved his hand at her before she could say anything else. “Leave. I’ll take care of him.” She nodded, standing and bowing before she left the tent. Dagur wouldn't have cared if she didn't bow. He stood, taking off his tunic. Skin-to-skin contact would be the fastest way to warm him up, so he took off his pants too.

Dagur slipped under the blankets behind Hiccup, took him in his arms. He turned him around so that he was facing him. He was dead weight against him.

“Hiccup, it’ll be okay,” he said softly, hugging him tight. “You’ll be okay. Just come out of this please.”

It was much too long before Hiccup stopped shivering. He still didn't move though, didn't speak. Dagur put a hand under his chin and lifted his head, found that his eyes were still blank and staring, like he’d gone somewhere else.

_What happened to him?_

Dagur was baffled. He’d been perfectly fine when he’d left, had been talking and even smiling. What could have happened in those few minutes?

Panicking again, he ran one of his hands all over him, checking for any new injury, any blood. There was nothing.

“Hiccup, please wake up and tell me what's going on,” he said softly. He cradled the back of his head, rocked him a little. “Please come back.”

 

 _There was a whisper in the sky._

_Hiccup looked up, hanging onto his wall with both hands to make sure he wouldn't fall. He was quite a ways above the water now, about ten feet. He’d built his wall upwards. It didn't stretch very far, but he felt like he had to make it tall rather than wide._

_There was the voice again, coming from the infinite gray around and above him. He didn't know what it was saying, but he knew who it was._

Dagur.

_His lip curled in anger and contempt, and a piece of his wall crumbled away and fell into the water below. He looked down, watched as it rose an inch or so. Another stone tumbled down, and again the water rose._

_“No, no, stay! Come on!” Hiccup shouted desperately._

“Come back to me. Come on.”

_“Shut up, Dagur!” Hiccup shouted into the gray. “Shut up and let me finish this!”_

“Please, Hiccup. What happened?”

 _Hiccup bellowed wordlessly into the sky, wishing Dagur would just be quiet. Then he could_ smell _him, like he was right in front of him but he couldn’t see him._

_“No! Go away! I’m not done yet!”_

_Regardless of that, Hiccup felt those huge, familiar arms around him, felt his own face pressed into his neck. He was no longer on his wall, being lifted away from it. He waved his arms, reached out for it, but it was too far below him. As he was pulled away from it, he saw another piece crumble and fall into the dark water below._

 

Hiccup drew in a shuddering gasp, panicked, tried lifting himself up.

“Hey! Hey, it’s okay.” One of Dagur’s hands was in his hair, the other on his naked back. “It’s okay, Hiccup. It’s okay.”

He blinked rapidly, eyes burning and aching as if he’d been crying and holding them open for too long. Then he squeezed them shut, a few tears falling free. He trembled slightly in Dagur’s arms. He wanted to be rid of them, of _him_ , wanted to scream and kick and fight, but he knew it would get him nowhere. So, instead he took a deep breath, trying to calm and reorient himself.

“Hiccup, what happened?” Dagur asked, gently stroking his hair. “Are you alright?”

“I don’t…” His voice cracked and he had to start again. “I don’t know.” Had he been unconscious? Why did Dagur seem so worried? He ground his teeth together in anger. He’d _broken_ him, and then he had the gall to ask him how he was doing and sound concerned.

 _Or am I…?_ Hiccup could hardly make himself think the word. He didn’t _feel_ broken, not like he had before he’d lost consciousness or whatever that had been. It’d been like a dream, but not.

_The wall. I rebuilt the wall._

_But only some of it._

_That’ll have to do._

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Dagur asked, confused. “You were just like, limp and staring and making these weird crying noises.” He held him a little tighter, but thankfully not to the point of discomfort. “You scared the _Hel_ out of me. The doctor said you’d gone into shock.”

“I did?”

“Yeah.”

“How long was I like that?” Hiccup was a little surprised that he’d gone into shock. He’d thought he could handle himself better.

“Hours. I’ve been holding you for just as long.”

Hiccup made sure not to show his discomfort over this. “Um, why?”

“To keep you warm,” Dagur answered. “You were absolutely freezing.”

“Oh.”

“So you really don’t know why you went into shock?”

Hiccup’s anger flared up like a roaring flame, but he wrestled it down. He _did_ know, but there was no point in telling Dagur that it had been his fault. He wouldn’t understand. He’d never understand. Hiccup had never before wanted to kill him so badly, but he didn’t move. He just lay there helpless and hopeless in his arms, wondering how long it would be before his wall toppled again, before he broke for good.

“No. I don’t know.”

“Weird. Anyway, you want dinner?”


	49. Chapter 48

Hiccup stared at his ankle, feeling a little stunned. He lifted his foot and moved it around a bit just to see how it felt. He’d gotten used to the constant weight of the chain, and so it felt strange without it.

“Thanks, Dagur.” He never thought he’d ever be thanking Dagur for something and mean it, but he did. He was grateful for the chain being removed.

 _Now just have to wait for it to snow._ Hiccup figured it would be better to escape while it was snowing so that his tracks would be covered. If he escaped when it wasn’t snowing, he’d be much too easy to follow.

“You’re welcome.” Dagur looked at the chain in his hand, clearly not sure what to do with it. “So, um, are you sure you’re okay?” He ended up just tossing the chain aside and sitting on the cot cross-legged, facing Hiccup.

“Kind of annoyed since you keep asking.”

“Okay, okay, I guess I just want to understand what happened,” he said.

“Dagur, I already told you I don’t know,” Hiccup responded.

Dagur leaned close, peering at him intently. “Mm, you’re lying.”

“What? No I’m not!” Hiccup threw up his hands before crossing them over his chest. “How can you even tell?”

“Because I know you. So come on. Tell me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Dagur heaved a frustrated sigh. “Okay, fine. Have it your way.”

They fell silent, and Hiccup was waiting for Dagur to reach out and touch him; so was his body. It had learned what times of day Dagur usually fucked him, and he was steadily becoming erect. His face heated red and he looked away from him.

“What? What is it?”

Hiccup didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want to give in to his body’s urges. He mentally cursed it, cursed Dagur for conditioning it like this. He wanted to cry. But, it was still his day to cooperate, and Dagur probably wanted sex anyway. He found himself crawling into his lap.

_Might as well get it over with._

Dagur’s eyes widened in surprise. “Hiccup, what are you…? Usually I have to tell you to get in my lap. Not that I’m complaining.”

Hiccup tightened his lips and untied the sash to his robe with his left hand, letting the garment fall open. Dagur looked down, laughed a little in delight, and Hiccup closed his eyes.

“You horny slut.” There was a teasing note in his voice, but the words hurt anyway.

 _Maybe it’s because he’s right._ Hiccup was starting to agree with Dagur when he called him ‘slut’ and ‘whore.’ He felt like one, especially since he couldn’t control his body’s urges.

Dagur’s hand went around his cock where it belonged, the other running up his torso to play with his left nipple. Hiccup groaned and bucked into him while imagining what it would be like to kill himself. Maybe he should just do that instead of escaping.

“Hiccup, why are you crying?”

“What?” Hiccup opened his eyes, wiped at his face. His fingers came back wet with tears. “Um, I don’t know.” He hadn’t even realized that he’d started crying. Though, now that he knew, he could try to stop. Inside of him, the water bashed violently against his wall, and it created a real pain in his chest. Somehow, he numbed himself to it, and his tears stopped falling. “Don’t worry about it. I’m okay.”

“Hiccup, you’re shit at lying.” He rested his hand over his pounding heart, on his brand. Hiccup hadn’t realized that about the placement of it before, wondered if Dagur had done it on purpose.

“No I’m not. I fooled Viggo.”

“Well, then you’re shit at lying right now.”

“Dagur, please, I don’t want to talk. I-I don’t want _you_ to talk.”

Dagur placed his hands on his waist. “Then lie back and I won’t talk.”

Hiccup nodded and moved off of Dagur, lying down on his back. The man followed him, kissed his way down his body. Hiccup allowed himself to moan and arch into it. He usually hated letting his body take over, but he was going to relinquish control to it this time instead of fighting it. He was tired of fighting and he just wanted this day to end.

Dagur moaned with Hiccup as he took his cock into his mouth. He clearly enjoyed having things in his mouth, especially if said things belonged to Hiccup. One hand caressed his right thigh, the other placed firmly on his hip to keep him from moving.

Hiccup didn't want to enjoy this, didn't want to allow himself to, but he found that he was anyway. He figured that maybe it was just because he was tired. It had been a very long day.

Hiccup grew nervous as Dagur worked him towards climax, afraid that he was going to hurt him. He fisted his left hand in the blankets as he tried to hold it back, groaning through his teeth, sweat tingling on his forehead. He released a huge breath as Dagur pulled away, body relaxing. He could feel him looking him over.

“You’re holding it back.”

“Wh-what makes you say that?”

Dagur ran a hand over his heaving chest. “You’re all about playing dumb tonight, aren’t you, Hiccup?”

Hiccup didn’t say anything to this, just turned his head away, eyes still closed.

“I’m not gonna hurt you this time,” Dagur told him, hand once again travelling down to pump over his length. “I promise.”

_I can’t believe I have to let him do this to me._

“O-okay.”

“Then just let go, Hiccup.” His voice was soft of all things. Hiccup expected him to say more, but then his mouth was back on him. It was only a matter of seconds before he felt on the verge of climax again, but he didn’t hold it back this time, letting it overtake him.

He very suddenly sobbed, abruptly struck with the need to cry.

_No, stop it! You’ve cried enough, Hiccup! Stop it!_

Admonishing himself didn’t work, and he kept crying when Dagur pulled off of him.

“Hiccup? Is, uh… did I do something wrong?”

 _Shut_ up, _Dagur!_

Hiccup wanted to scream at him, to kick him, but he knew that it was all completely useless. He didn’t respond.

He felt Dagur lay beside him, then roll him onto his side and take him into his arms. He begged for those arms to squeeze hard enough to crush the life out of him. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take.

“Hiccup, please stop crying. It’s okay, it’s okay.”

_No it’s not! Let go of me!_

He couldn’t make his protests come out of his mouth, even when Dagur kissed at his face. He rocked him a little.

“Shh, relax, Hiccup. Relax.”

 _Let go!_

“Do you want me to sing to you?”

_I want you to leave me the fuck alone!_

Then, not waiting for an answer, Dagur did start singing. It was a lullaby, the tune and words familiar to him though he couldn’t remember ever having been sung to as a child. Maybe his mother had sung it to him once.

He wanted to cry harder at this, his anger making him shake, but he didn’t have the strength to. He was just so _tired_. His tears began to fade, his anger following suit. He went still and quiet in Dagur’s arms, just listened to him sing.

“ _He ruffles his wings and gruffly sings:_  
_Sleep, little one, sleep._ ”

Sleep. That seemed like a lovely idea. Hiccup let himself fall into its dark depths, wishing that it could last forever.

 

Hiccup woke to find the spot beside him cold and empty. Finding that odd, he rolled onto his back and looked around. He was alone.

_Dagur actually let me sleep?_

Though, he didn’t trust that entirely, even though Dagur insisted that he left him alone while he was sleeping. He sat up, checked himself over for any sign that he’d been assaulted in his sleep. There was nothing, so either Dagur had cleaned him up well, or he really hadn’t done anything. Hiccup supposed he would just have to take Dagur’s word for it and assume that he hadn’t done anything to his unconscious body.

He felt strange, empty, like there was a gaping hole in his chest. The anger from the night before was gone, and he wasn’t entirely sure what he was feeling. He laid back down, not intent on moving or doing anything. He supposed that he was still in a bit of shock from recent events. So much had happened to him in the span of two days. Bryn had kissed him, Dagur had carved his name into his leg, he’d learned that Dagur was intercepting his friends’ Terror Mail, he’d nearly lost his left thumb, he’d said he loved him, and then he’d broken and put himself back together. Hiccup didn’t feel like he’d done a very good job of that, like there were a few pieces missing and the ones that were there weren’t being held together very well. He didn’t think he’d ever get those pieces back though, whatever they were.

“Hiccup?”

He started at the sound of Bryn’s voice, found her standing by the table. He hadn’t even realized she’d come in.

He sat up, hurriedly pulling his robe shut. “Yeah, hey. What is it?”

“I brought your lunch.” She gestured to the tray on the table.

“Lunch?” Hiccup asked. “So it’s not morning?”

“Not anymore, no,” Bryn answered. “Tried bringing you breakfast but you were asleep. I didn’t try to wake you. Figured you needed to sleep.”

“Yeah, guess I did. Um, I’m not really hungry.” 

“Not even a little bit?”

Hiccup shook his head. He knew that he was beginning to lose weight, that soon Dagur would realize he wasn’t really eating, but he couldn’t make himself do it.

“Okay.” Bryn came and sat beside him, in the spot Dagur usually slept in. He found it disconcerting and comforting all at once.

“What’s the weather like?” Hiccup asked. He looked over her clothing, disappointed at the lack of snowflakes on her. “I take it its not snowing.”

Bryn shook her head. “It snowed a little last night though.”

“Shit. Can’t snow when I’m awake though, can it?”

“Why do you want it to snow?”

“It’ll cover my tracks,” Hiccup explained. “That way I can’t be followed.”

“Did you find a way to get your chain off yet?”

Hiccup pulled back the blankets and lifted his right foot to show her. He had it in himself to smile a little. “Dagur took it off for me,” he explained.

Bryn looked astonished. “What? So you just _asked_ him?”

“Sort of, yeah.” He put his foot back down, smile fading. “I still feel just as trapped though.”

Bryn put an arm around his shoulder, and Hiccup found himself leaning into her. “But you’re _not_.”

“I don’t know, Bryn.” He sighed. “Maybe it would just be easier to…” He trailed off, not wanting to voice his suicidal thoughts. That would only upset her.

“Easier to what?”

“Nothing.” His eyes flicked down to the small knife at her belt. _No, Hiccup, stop it!_ He wouldn’t kill himself. That was a way out that he refused to take. If anything, he was too stubborn to die. He rested his head on Bryn’s shoulder. “I did something awful yesterday,” he told her. He was surprised that he wanted to talk about what had happened.

“I doubt it could have been that bad.”

“I mean, it was awful for me,” Hiccup clarified. “I…” He waited, expecting tears, but there were none. “I told Dagur I loved him.”

“But I thought you hated him,” she said in clear confusion.

“I do, but he’d been wanting me to say it, and then he was going to cut off my thumb, so I just blurted it out to stop him,” Hiccup explained. He felt comforted when Bryn’s arm tightened around him.

“You didn’t mean it though.”

“It still… hurt. And he thinks I meant it.” Hiccup came to the realization that that meant he couldn’t fight him anymore, not unless he wanted to tell Dagur he’d been lying and risk him tearing him to shreds in an angered frenzy. He would only do that if he knew Dagur would kill him for it, but he wouldn’t. He’d hurt him, but he’d keep him alive. “Bryn, I don’t know what to do!” he wailed, burying his face in her shoulder. It felt good to be so close to her, to be pressed against another human being that _wasn’t_ Dagur. Her scent was a refreshing change from his.

“What do you mean?” she asked gently.

“H-he thinks I meant it so I-I can’t- I have to let him-” Hiccup choked down a sob, held back his tears. He was sick of crying. 

“Hurt you?” 

“But he doesn’t hurt me all the time,” Hiccup said. “That’s the problem. He…” _Should I really tell her this?_ “He touches me in ways he shouldn’t. And a lot of the time it feels good, but I hate it. I hate it so _much_.”

“Because it’s coming from him?” Bryn asked.

“Partially.” Hiccup wasn’t quite sure how to explain this to her, but he wanted to, at least a little. “And because he touches me in places and ways you really shouldn’t unless you have the person’s consent.”

“You mean, like, down there?” Bryn questioned, sounding disturbed.

“Yeah,” Hiccup answered, knowing what she meant. “And, he, um…” He didn’t know how to explain this to someone who clearly didn’t know much about sex, and he didn’t really want to explain that to her. “Never mind. There’s no way to say it.” 

“It’s okay, Hiccup. You don’t have to talk about it.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to tell you,” he said wistfully. He didn’t know why he wanted to tell her though. What good would it do for him? 

Neither of them said anything for a while, though the silence was comfortable. Bryn was rubbing her hand over his shoulder, and he was perfectly fine with that.

“Tell me more about Berk,” she said. “I’m going to be living there, so I should know more.”

“You want the funny version?” Hiccup asked, a smile crossing his features as he came up with an idea.

“The funny version?”

“Trust me, I got this whole thing planned out.”

“Okay. Funny version it is.”

“Well, it’s twelve days north of hopeless and a few degrees south of freezing to death…”

 

Snotlout found Tuffnut alone outside his hut with a training dummy, a spear gripped in his left hand and his face tightened with frustration. His right arm was still held in a sling.

“Hey, Tuff, how’s it going?”

Tuffnut took a stab at the dummy, looking like he was aiming for the chest, but the movement was clumsy and he missed the dummy altogether.

“This dummy is quite the fighter,” Tuffnut answered. There was fake cheer in his voice. “He keeps dodging my attacks.”

“I thought you’d be using Macey,” Snotlout said. Tuffnut had told him about the permanent damage to his right shoulder and that he still wanted to fight, so he was going to start teaching himself how to use his left hand. He was surprised it wasn’t with his favorite weapon though.

“Macey hurts my wrist,” Tuffnut responded bitterly. “It’s not as strong as my right one.”

“You’ll just have to work yourself up to it,” Snotlout reasoned. He hated seeing him upset like this.

His boyfriend gave a cynical laugh before striding a foot within the dummy and plunging the spear right into its head. “It’s not that easy, Snotlout.”

“I never said it was.”

Tuffnut’s shoulders drooped and he looked down at the ground. “Yeah.” He grimaced and rubbed at his right shoulder. “So, here with news or…?”

“Or what?” Snotlout asked. “Can’t I just hang out with you?”

“Why would you want to? I’m not all that entertaining right now.”

“You don’t have to be entertaining all the time for people to like you,” Snotlout told him.

“Really? Because it feels that way,” Tuffnut said dismally. 

Snotlout opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by the sound of a horn. Enemies were approaching.

Tuffnut perked up at the sound, as he usually perked up at unusual things. “Finally! Some action!”

Snotlout was already in motion, mounting Hookfang. “Tuff, that’s not really a good thing. But are you coming or what?”

“Oh yeah.” Tuffnut climbed on behind him, ignoring the hand he offered to help him up. He did it just fine with the use of only one arm, and once he was on properly, Snotlout had Hookfang take to the sky.

He expected some grand-scale attack to be happening, to be faced with a giant fleet of Berserker or Dragon Hunter ships, maybe both. What he hadn’t expected was one lone Dragon Hunter ship approaching the island at a crawl.

“What the Hel are these guys doing?” Snotlout thought out loud, confused. He heard a fluttering of wings, and then Fishlegs was beside him on Meatlug, looking just as confused as he felt.

“One ship?” Fishlegs questioned

“They’re not waving a white flag or anything, are they?” Snotlout asked.

“Let me check.” Fishlegs pulled his spyglass from his saddlebag, peered through it for a moment before lowering it and shaking his head. “Nope.”

“Can you see who’s on board?” Snotlout asked him. “Anyone important?”

Fishlegs brought the spyglass back up. After a moment or two he lowered it, looking a little shaken. 

“What? What is it?” Tuffnut piped in. “Someone really ugly?”

“Uh, some guy just smiled at me,” Fishlegs answered. “I think it might have been Viggo, but I don’t know because I’ve never seen him before.”

“Ew, that’s creepy,” Tuffnut said.

“What are you all just doing hovering here instead of attacking?” came Stoick’s voice from behind them. Snotlout looked to see him approaching on Skullcrusher. Ruffnut was behind him on Barf and Belch. The dragon was slower without the direction of two riders.

“I don’t think Viggo came here to attack us, chief,” Fishlegs told him. “If he did there would be more than one ship.”

Stoick leaned forward on Skullcrusher, staring at the ship. “Then what is he doing? I take it you didn’t see a white flag?”

“No,” Fishlegs said. “So… what do we do?”

Stoick straightened. “We wait and see what he does. He knows he can’t take on all this with just one ship, so he must be here for some other reason.”

Then, as they watched, the ship began to turn. It moved completely around, going to head back in the direction it had come from.

“Uh, _okay_ ,” Tuffnut commented. “That’s weird.”

Stoick growled in frustration. “Of course it has to be clear today! Dammit!”

“Chief, what is it?” Snotlout asked.

“I’m thinking Viggo probably knows where Hiccup is, and that that bastard might be heading there right now. I would have you follow him, but you wouldn’t get far without any cover.”

“We can try!” Ruffnut shouted. She began to move forwards.

“No, don’t,” Stoick ordered. “He’d just shoot you out of the sky. I’m not losing anyone else.”

Snotlout looked back at the ship, suddenly feeling helpless. The ship was _right there_ , and yet they couldn’t follow it. Stoick was right. He probably did know where Hiccup was.

“Then we attack and take a prisoner,” Snotlout suggested. 

Stoick was quiet for a moment, thinking, but then he nodded. “Let’s go.”

“Tuff, you should probably ride with Ruffnut for this. You guys are faster together.”

“Dude, I’m not going into battle on a dragon with one arm.”

“Oh, right.”

Snotlout turned towards the clubhouse as the others took off towards the ship. He dropped Tuffnut off before going to join them.

They attacked in a disjointed V formation, Stoick taking the point. They were a little off without the usual amount of Riders. Snotlout hoped that would be fixed soon.

The catapult blasts came quickly – they’d been expecting them to attack. They successfully dodged those, and then came the arrows. They broke formation to stay clear of them.

“Snotlout, take out the catapults!” Stoick yelled.

“On it!” Snotlout twirled out of the way of a few arrows, wishing that Hookfang had his armor, and then went for one of the catapults. “Hookfang, fire!”

His dragon let loose a burst of flame, setting the catapult alight. They moved for the next one, but were met by a barrage of arrows.

“Up!” Snotlout shouted, yanking on Hookfang’s horns, hoping they’d be able to dodge the arrows in time. Hookfang flapped his wings in a panic, then screeched as if he’d been hit. He careened to the side.

_Shit!_

“Hooky, come on! Back to the Edge! You can do it!”

Hookfang wobbled dangerously as he turned and headed back for Dragon’s Edge. Snotlout knew it wasn’t that far away, but, on a dragon that could drop from the sky at any second, it looked that way.

“Guys, Hookfang’s hit!” he called out to his friends and his chief.

“Get back to the Edge, Snotlout!”

“What do you think I’m _doing_ , Fishlegs?!”

Hookfang began to spiral downwards.

“No, Hookfang! Come on! You got this!”

Hookfang growled in response, but then pulled himself out of the spiral. He dipped almost all the way onto his left side, then to the right. Snotlout held on for dear life, trying to steer him as best as he could.

They crashed at the stables just as Snotlout had intended them to. They hit hard and he was thrown from the saddle. He landed on his back, stunned, the breath knocked out of him. He watched the battle as he lay there and tried to remember how to breathe. There were distant shouts and bursts of fire. Despite that, the ship seemed to be getting farther away.

Finally, Snotlout was able to pull himself from his daze. He stood and shook himself off before running over to Hookfang. His dragon lay on his side, exposing the three arrows that had struck him in the chest. Snotlout was quick to pull them out.

“Aw, Hookfang, I’m sorry you got hit.” He rubbed his hand over Hookfang’s neck, and he rumbled affectionately. Snotlout looked back towards the ocean as he pet his dragon, saw his friends and his chief returning.

_I hope to Odin they got a prisoner._

They landed at the stables. Well, Fishlegs and Stoick landed. Ruffnut crash-landed on Barf and Belch. There were two arrows sticking out of the Zippleback’s side.

Stoick shouted wordlessly in anger as he hopped from Skullcrusher. There was no one else with them. They hadn’t succeeded.

Snotlout closed his eyes and lowered his head to hide his hopelessness and despair from everyone. Surely they were all feeling the same thing, but emotions were a weakness. Or so he’d been told.

“I swear, I’m going to kill Dagur _and_ Viggo!” Stoick roared. Snotlout heard him begin to stomp away. “I’ll tear their heads off for keeping my son from me!”


	50. Chapter 49

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, if you're wondering how this came out so fast, it's because I actually had this chapter written already. Sometimes when I get stuck on one thing, I move ahead and write an excerpt.
> 
> Sadly, I won't be updating at the same pace that I have been. I'm moving in to college this coming weekend and my classes start on the 5th of September, so I won't have as much time to write.

It was difficult for Hiccup, having to cooperate with Dagur every day. Though luckily, he didn’t really have to pretend he loved him. Dagur seemed to be happy with just his cooperation, his false consent.

Every day Hiccup would ask Bryn if it was snowing, ready to bolt if her answer was yes, but her answer was always the same. It hadn’t snowed, and so his captivity continued. The weather wasn’t on his side. He almost lost hope, but it was the beginning of December, so it would have to snow sooner or later. It always did.

Hiccup had grown oddly comfortable with Dagur, so he didn’t look up from his book when he entered the tent. Besides, he was sure he was just going to walk over and take it from him to get his attention in a moment, but he didn’t want to acknowledge him just yet.

“Hello, Hiccup.”

He jumped up, dropping his book, feeling as if he’d been doused in ice water. He stumbled back when he looked to the entrance, grabbing at the back of the chair to keep himself from falling back into it.

“Viggo.” His name came out as a gasp. “What-what are you - Does Dagur know you’re here?”

Viggo strode forward, not looking at him, eyes instead on the book that he’d dropped on the ground.

“Hm, the Prose Edda,” he noted. “Didn’t take you for the religious type.”

“I-I’m not.” Hiccup straightened, trying to quell the trembling that had started in his hands, the fear that was rushing through him. “I just like the stories.”

“I see. Have any favorites?”

Hiccup swallowed hard. He was confused as to why Viggo was having this conversation with him when he was certainly here for a reason. Whatever reason that was couldn't be good either.

“I like the ones with Loki,” Hiccup answered honestly.

Viggo gave a little snort. “He’s an idiot,” he said as he came closer, close enough to reach out and touch him. 

“Wh-what makes you say that?”

“Because he always gets caught,” Viggo replied, bending to pick up the book. He straightened and brushed it off before holding it out to him. “Everyone always figures out his lies and then he's left to clean up his own mess. You’d think someone as intelligent as him would be clever enough to get away with whatever he wanted.” His lips twitched into a small smirk.

Hand shaking, Hiccup took the book from him. “Dagur doesn't know you're here,” he realized, setting the book down on the table.

“Well, the guards outside think he does,” Viggo answered. “A simple lie, but an effective one.”

Hiccup’s stomach bottomed out. He almost felt a burning under his skin, remembering what had happened last time Viggo had come here. The fingers of his right hand were still bandaged from it. He took a small step back, bumping into the chair.

“H-he usually… usually comes to see me after lunch,” Hiccup told him. “He’ll be… he’ll be back soon.”

“I was told that he'd be busy all day,” Viggo countered, taking a step forward so that there was the same distance between them as there had been before. Hiccup wanted to hit him, but it would be useless since he had nowhere to run to. “It's risky to count on that, but I feel it's best if this little meeting be kept between us.”

Hiccup took a deep breath. He supposed there was something about that that could keep him safe. Viggo couldn't hurt him if he didn't want Dagur to know he was here. Also, he realized that it gave him some power over the situation.

“What if I don't want it to?” Hiccup asked, having calmed immensely. “What if I tell him? What if I call for help?”

“You’d call for the guards?” Viggo stepped closer, and Hiccup had to raise his head a little to meet his eyes. He was uncomfortable with how close he was: they were nearly touching.

“I don't see why I shouldn't.”

“I’ll give you a reason.” Then Viggo was touching him, pulling his robe open and sticking a hand between his legs. Hiccup jumped and gasped, raised his left hand to hit him, but Viggo caught his wrist.

“Y-you’re not sup-supposed to do that,” Hiccup stuttered out. “I-it’s illegal.”

“So?”

“I’ll still c-call for help.” Hiccup wanted to cry. He couldn't believe this, couldn't believe that another one of his enemies was interested in him in such a way, couldn't believe that _another_ person was doing this to him.

_Don’t I get enough of this as it is?_

“Will you now?” Viggo started running his hand over his cock and Hiccup whimpered. His body quickly became aroused by the touch though the hand was unfamiliar. It was softer than Dagur’s, larger. “You’d want them to see you like this?”

“What do you want, Viggo?” Hiccup asked shakily, closing his eyes, unable to hold his gaze anymore. He figured that this wasn't all he'd come here for, that there was something else he wanted and he was just using this as a way to get it.

“Ah, smart Hiccup.” Viggo let go of him, took a step back. Hiccup gasped for air once he was released, almost like he'd been strangled. He hurriedly closed his robe, then hugged his arms to himself. He opened his eyes, but had his head turned so that he wasn't looking at him. “First off, I want your cooperation.”

“And what will you do if I don't give it?” Hiccup questioned quietly. “You can't hurt me. If you do, Dagur will know.”

“You should know what I want your cooperation with before you start defying me,” Viggo said.

“Fine.” He turned his head back to look at him, glared. “What is it?”

“I found your Dragon Riders.”

Hiccup’s eyes went big, heart leaping into his throat. He sat down hard. Did that mean that his friends were-?

“Relax, Hiccup,” Viggo said. “They’re not dead. Not yet.”

“What do you mean?” He stared at the ground. He was being thrashed around by waves of hot and cold, and it felt like he was suffocating. Had he captured them and was going to use them as leverage for something? The thought of his friends being hurt by the man in front of him made him sick.

Viggo pulled over the other chair to sit in front of Hiccup. He flinched when their knees touched.

“I found them still at Dragon’s Edge, actually,” Viggo told him. “Along with what looked to be a great number of Berk’s fleet.”

Hiccup felt a bit of relief building up, but he didn’t let himself hope. He didn’t dare. Hope was an awful thing.

“And?” he croaked out.

“Defenses above what Ryker reported when he laid siege to it a few months back.” He let his relief blossom with that statement. Ryker hadn’t been able to take Dragon’s Edge when it had just been Astrid and Tuffnut protecting it, and if Berk’s fleet was there and the defenses had been reinforced, there was no way Viggo could have taken anyone. 

Hiccup grimaced when he felt Viggo’s hand under his chin.

“You know, Hiccup, I would appreciate it if you looked at me while we were speaking,” he said softly, an underlying tone of command in his voice. “It’s rather rude not to.”

Hiccup tightened his jaw and lifted his head, narrowing his eyes in a glare, anger flaring up inside him. Viggo gave him a small smile when he met his gaze, lowered his hand.

“There we go. Does Dagur like your eyes?” he questioned. “They are quite lovely.”

A wordless growl rose up from Hiccup’s throat, and he clenched his left hand into a fist. “We were talking about Dragon’s Edge,” he said lowly.

“Indeed we were.” Viggo seemed satisfied with how he’d made him uncomfortable. “And that, my dear Hiccup, is where you come in.”

“How?”

Viggo leaned forward. “I need you-” he tapped him on the chest- “to tell me how to take it.”

Hiccup found it in him to laugh at him. It was a dark, cynical laugh. He leaned back in the chair, still laughing, enjoying the slight glint of frustration in Viggo’s eyes.

“What makes you think I’m going to tell you that?” he asked, still chuckling. “You think I’d willingly betray my friends and my entire tribe like that?” Hiccup fought the urge to insult his intelligence, knowing that that would be going too far.

“Oh, I know you won’t.” There was a hint of menace in his voice, and Hiccup felt his swell of confidence falter.

“But you can’t hurt me,” he stated.

“No, I can’t, and it wouldn’t matter if I could,” Viggo said calmly, standing. Hiccup’s heart fluttered. He would have stood as well, to be more level with him, but his legs felt weak. “Because pain doesn’t really work on you, does it? You’re used to it. Though, I believe I know what does.”

_Oh shit._

He found that his mouth had suddenly gone dry; he licked his lips. “I-I thought…” he cleared his throat, trying to get his voice to work properly. He wished he could run.  
“Thought you were against that.”

“I’ve recently changed my views on it. At least, in regards to you.”

 _Scream, Hiccup_ , he told himself. _Come on. Just yell and scream for help._

He opened his mouth to do just that when Viggo placed a hand on his shoulder, but nothing came out. He couldn’t move either, his limbs refusing to listen to him. He quickly grew frustrated and desperate. Why wasn’t his body listening to him?! It didn’t make sense. He knew that if this was Dagur he would be having no trouble in hitting him or yelling, but something about Viggo frightened him to no end and made him freeze. Maybe it had something to do with the clarity in his eyes, that Hiccup knew that he was perfectly sane.

Hiccup trembled as Viggo’s hand ventured down, moving beneath his robe and onto his bare skin. He was screaming at himself to move, but his hands remained where they were, still and utterly useless. He sucked in his lower lip, fighting back tears.

“So, Hiccup, you know how this works,” Viggo began, fingers playing over his brand. “You tell me, and I’ll stop, plain and simple.”

“I-I’ll call for the guards.”

“I don’t really think you will, my dear.” The confidence in his voice irked him. “I’m assuming that that’s what had you looking like a dying fish a moment ago.”

“I will.” Hiccup barely spoke above a whisper.

Viggo reached down lower till he was once again grasping his cock, and Hiccup shut his eyes. “Go ahead then. Do it.”

His lower lip trembled, tears spilling free. He wanted to so badly, but he _couldn’t_. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this.

Hiccup choked back a sob as he began stroking him, and his body _liked_ it. He felt Viggo’s eyes boring into him, watching his expressions, and somehow, though he was raped multiple times a day, he’d never before felt more violated in his life.

“Do it.” There was a satisfied smirk in his words. “I won’t stop you.”

Hiccup was sparked with the sudden ability to move. He grabbed at Viggo’s wrist, pried his fingers loose, before standing and stumbling away from him.

“Stop it,” he gasped, holding out his hand in a halting gesture as if that would do anything. “I-I’m not going to tell you anything. G-get out. Just get out.”

Viggo snickered a little. “You don’t know that you won’t tell me.” Then suddenly he was right there in front of him, tearing his robe off of him. The garment was gone before Hiccup realized what was happening, and he tried to hit Viggo but his wrists were grabbed in a strong grip. He doubted it would leave bruises, but even if it did, it would be impossible to tell them from the ones that Dagur left every day. The Berserker was still rough with him even though he cooperated.

He fought, but Viggo was bigger, stronger, and he was dragged over to the table and shoved down on his stomach. He tried pulling his hands free, but they were yanked behind his back, being quickly and tightly tied up with the sash to his robe. He opened his mouth to yell, but a hand was clamped over his mouth. He didn’t bite him in fear of repercussions, and he stopped struggling, realizing that he was trapped. He just whimpered into his hand.

_Oh gods, why is this happening to me?_

“You have to stay quiet,” Viggo told him. “We don’t want anyone knowing what we’re up to in here, do we?”

Hiccup hated the way he phrased that. It almost made it sound consensual. He knew he could get out of this, but he wasn’t even considering giving him the information he wanted, and he’d given up on his idea of calling for the guards. He was trapped. Unless…

He shook his head out of Viggo’s grip. “I’ll tell Dagur,” he said frantically.

“Really?” His other hand traced over his spine and Hiccup shivered. “You’d tell your master that I indulged in your body?”

“He’s not my-” Hiccup couldn’t even bring himself to say it. “Never mind. But I’ll tell him. I swear I’ll tell him. And then he’ll kill you for touching me.”

Viggo breathed a sigh, the tiredness in it obvious dramatic effect. “My poor, dear Hiccup, we both know that you won’t tell him.”

Hiccup was going to speak, to counter that, but he clamped his mouth shut. Viggo was right. He _wouldn’t_ tell Dagur. How could he? _Why_ would he? His breathing accelerated. Now he was truly and properly stuck.

“Now, I’m assuming you’d want to do this on the bed to be a little more comfortable?”

He blinked back tears, swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Yes.”

“Alright.” Viggo let go of him and backed away, giving him room to stand. “Go over and lay on your back. Right on the edge of it.”

Hiccup didn’t want to, but at the same time, doing exactly as he said would be like an act of defiance. Viggo was expecting him to tell him what he wanted, and by taking his orders, he’d be showing him that he wouldn’t. 

He didn’t look at him as he turned around and made his way over to the cot. The feeling of his gaze intent on him made his skin crawl and his hair stand up. He didn’t say anything as he settled himself down. He watched Viggo to see what he would do, but he was careful not to meet his eyes. The man came over, ran his fingers over the scabs of the large runes in his right thigh.

“This looks newer, only recently healed. I’m assuming this wasn’t here the last time I saw you?” He seemed intrigued by Dagur's name in his thigh. Having Viggo of all people see and touch that made him want to be sick.

Hiccup just shook his head, disturbed with how Viggo was seeing every way that Dagur had marked him as his property, how he was seeing him _naked_. He shifted uncomfortably when he once again took his length in his hand.

“Your cock is quite lovely, you know,” Viggo commented as he began stroking him gently. It was strange to him, foreign. Dagur was usually rough, even when he was touching him here. “Tell me: Has Astrid enjoyed it?”

“Shut up.”

“Oh, she has, hasn’t she?” There was a knowing smirk on Viggo’s lips. Hiccup’s face burned. “Nothing to be ashamed of, my boy.” His smirk grew, as if he was amused by something. “What about Dagur? Does he like it that way?”

Shame rolled around sickeningly in his stomach and he closed his eyes. “I said shut up.”

“Would you rather discuss something else? Like the defenses of Dragon’s Edge for instance?”

“Dagur keeps the oil under the bed,” Hiccup hissed out in way of an answer. He was _not_ going to divulge that information.

Viggo released him, patted his thigh. “Alright then.”

Hiccup tried turning his quick, shallow breaths into deep ones, but somehow, that just made it harder for him to hold in his sobs. He lost sense of everything save for his own panic and despair, tears dribbling silently down his cheeks.

He was pulled back from his emotions by the touch of something cold and wet on the tip of his cock. He jolted and gasped, eyes flying open to see what Viggo was doing.

“Stay still unless you want this to hurt,” Viggo warned him, placing his free hand on his hip. His other held a narrow metal rod to his slit, and Hiccup gave a small cry as the tip was inserted. His veins were washed through with a sudden heat: shock.

“Wh-what the Hel are you - are you doing?” Hiccup forced out. The sensation of the rod in him was strange and uncomfortable, even a little painful. He hoped to the gods Viggo wasn’t planning on putting it the rest of the way in, though he was sure he would.

Viggo looked pleased with himself. “Do you not like that?”

“N-no, I don’t.”

“Then give me what I want and I’ll take it out,” he said gently. “It’s all up to you.”

“No,” Hiccup responded without hesitation.

Viggo didn’t say anything. He just began slowly sliding the rod into him, and Hiccup twisted his head with a whine. It felt a tad too wide, and so it stung despite being coated in the oil. 

“Oh gods.” He wanted to struggle as it went deeper, but if he did he’d injure himself, so he just breathed a quiet moan at the feeling of it. Then it touched something inside of him that felt good, causing him to shudder.

“That’s your prostate,” Viggo told him, clearly understanding what the shudder had meant. He applied pressure, sending a wave of pleasure rippling through him. Briefly forgetting about the guards outside, he moaned louder than he had before. Viggo’s hand left his hip, instead going over his mouth. “No, sh, Hiccup. You have to be quiet.”

Hiccup was glad for Viggo’s hand covering his mouth as he drew the rod up, almost all the way out, and then pushed it back in. It hurt and there was such a sense of wrongness about it, but it somehow felt good at the same time. His exclamations of discomfort and pleasure were muffled by his hand.

Viggo continued to move the rod inside of him, and after about a minute Hiccup couldn't take it anymore. Inwardly cursing himself, he pulled his head free so he could speak.

“Wh-what are the defenses like?”

Viggo stopped, but left the rod in him. Hiccup groaned as he slowly pumped his hand over his cock.

“Walls at every lower beach, watchtowers covering every blind spot. It looks impregnable. But, you know the people in charge, know exactly how they would react to certain situations. How would I get past all that?”

Hiccup couldn't bring himself to answer, even though he desperately wanted Viggo to stop touching him. He was running his other hand over his torso.

“Hiccup?”

“I’m thinking,” he snapped. “Stop touching me. You're making it difficult.”

“I’m just providing incentive, my dear.” His hand trailed down to his right hip, fingers tracing over the dark bruises there. “Dagur is rather brutal with you,” he noted. 

Hiccup moaned a little, shifted to get away, but Viggo’s touch followed him. He removed his left hand, the other still working at his cock. A whimper left him when one of his fingers pressed at his hole, and he tightly closed his legs, trapping Viggo’s hand to keep him from going any further.

“Are you going to talk, Hiccup?” he questioned. 

Drawing in a deep breath, tears pricking at his eyes, Hiccup spread his legs in way of answer.

“Not yet, I see.”

Hiccup gasped as Viggo inserted his finger.

“Wait, wait!” he cried, feeling a surge of panic. He didn't want this to happen to him. Viggo crooked his finger inside of him, finding his prostate, and he whimpered. “I said _wait_.”

“Not until you give me something useful.” He rubbed carefully against his pleasure spot and he gritted his teeth to keep quiet. There was something strange and almost uncomfortable about having it stimulated from two angles at once. 

“Oh gods,” Hiccup panted. “Okay, okay.” He had to think. How would he try to attack Dragon’s Edge without dragons? From what Viggo was telling him, it really did seem impenetrable. 

“Y-you have to wait,” he said. “Put a fleet where they can see you, but stay out of range. Let them attack you first.” He let his tears slide free. He felt awful for what he'd just said, but he wanted to get Viggo to stop what he was doing, and this was the only way.

Hiccup moaned despairingly through his teeth as Viggo put a second finger in him. The sensation was unfamiliar to him, his fingers wider than Dagur's.

“That's a start, Hiccup.” He pressed at the rod, holding it against his prostate while his fingers worked at it from the other side. He twisted his head and bit at the blankets to stifle a cry. “So you think they would attack me first if I did that?”

“Yes,” he answered breathlessly before biting at the blanket again. He squirmed a little, though it was useless.

“And? What else?”

Hiccup now had an idea, but he couldn't bring himself to continue. He already felt terrible just from saying that one little thing. He told himself that he could endure this, that he had no choice.

In response, Viggo slid in a third finger, and Hiccup's hips bucked a little without his consent. He groaned into the blanket, tears falling faster now. He found himself trying to get away, but Viggo took ahold of his thigh.

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” he asked.

Hiccup spit out the blanket, turned a glare on him. “Why the Hel should you care?” he spat.

“Because that's not what I want to do,” Viggo replied. “Not at the moment anyway.” He stroked over his thigh. “Mm, the things I would love to do to you.” Hiccup’s stomach churned and he laid his head back, closed his eyes again. “But, unfortunately, it’d leave marks, so I can't while you're still Dagur's.”

 _Still?_ That made it sound like he'd somehow be Viggo’s at some point. He didn't like belonging to Dagur, but at least he knew him and knew exactly what he was like. Viggo was still a bit of a stranger to him, and he didn't like how he talked about what he wanted to do to him. Just from this experience alone, he knew it would be worse than anything Dagur could concoct.

He very intelligently said: “What?”

“I plan on negotiating with him to buy you later today. Of course this-” he let go of his thigh and tapped at his brand- “will have to go.”

Hiccup snorted out a laugh. “Never gonna happen. Dagur would never sell me.”

“It's worth a try.”

Hiccup would have laughed some more at that, finding it absolutely ridiculous, but Viggo hit a spot that felt particularly good and he arched a little, bit his lip. 

“You’re usually loud, aren't you?” Viggo inferred. Hiccup didn't know how to respond to that, so he didn't. Viggo caressed his heaving chest. “I would very much like to hear you scream again.”

Sickened by his words, his touch, Hiccup tried to think of something else. What did Viggo mean by saying the brand would have to go? He hadn't thought that was possible.

“Brands can be…” He paused to breathe through a wave of pleasure- “Removed?”

“In a very unpleasant manner, but yes.”

“How?”

Viggo traced over the lines of the brand as he spoke, fingers still massaging his prostate. “By cutting away the layers of skin and tissue. It's considered as skinning, really.”

That sounded like a terribly painful, but simple solution. 

_When I get out of here,_ he decided.

“Then naturally I’d have you branded with my crest.”

Hiccup choked on a sob. He wanted to argue that he wasn't a toy, that he wasn't some object to be used and bartered over, but the problem was, that's exactly what he was.

“And I’d have Dagur's name removed too. Any idea why he did that? The brand already marked you as his.” Viggo lightly pinched his left nipple, adding to the pleasure. Hiccup whimpered before speaking.

“I-I saw his tattoo.” He didn't know why he was telling Viggo this, but he kept speaking. “He has my… my name tattooed on his arm.” He uttered it in a horrified way, shuddered. “He thought it was a good idea that I have _his_ name on me too.” He arched, bit at the blanket again, Viggo's touch gently coaxing him towards orgasm. He didn't want to orgasm, but luckily, he didn't think he'd be able to with the rod still in him. Though, that could be torture as well.

Viggo chuckled. “He really is a crazy bastard, isn't he?”

Hiccup wished he had something snarky to say to that, something about Viggo being crazy as well, but he was losing himself to the burning pleasure. His hips rolled, his body begging for release. He was so close to climax, right on the edge of it, but he couldn't reach it. He whined and moaned into the blanket, wishing for the pleasure to just crest over him and let him go, but he was stuck in it.

Finally, _finally_ , Viggo withdrew his fingers. Hiccup went slack, sweating and panting. He stopped touching him altogether, and Hiccup would have been glad for it save for the fact that he heard him undoing his belt. He nearly blurted out the rest of his plan, to save himself from this, but he clenched his teeth over the words. He could do this if it meant protecting his tribe.

“How would you prefer me to take you?”

“Wh-what?”

“What position would you prefer me to take you in?” Viggo asked.

“You mean what position would I like to be raped in?” Hiccup asked incredulously. It was a truly odd question. “I guess, um, I’m fine like this.” His face and neck burned red in mortification.

“Lift your legs then,” Viggo ordered. “Unless you wish to tell me what I need to know.”

Hiccup couldn't make himself do either, having gone stiff. His breath came in terrified pants.

“My dear Hiccup, you only have two choices here.”

“I-I’m not doing it. I'm not doing either one.”

“Then I’ll do it for you.”

Hiccup whimpered as Viggo's hands slid under his legs. He took him by the backs of his knees, shoving his legs upwards and spreading them wide, leaving him completely exposed.

“I’ll be gentle, my dear,” he said in a way as if he was trying to soothe him. “I'm sure you don't get that very often.”

Hiccup clenched his jaw to the point of aching as he felt Viggo's cock against his entrance, trying to keep himself from saying anything that would betray his friends. He groaned as he pressed forward and into him, tilted his head back. 

Hiccup usually didn't think about the size of Dagur's cock, but feeling someone else's led him to compare. Viggo was almost the same girth, but noticeably longer. He wanted to just break down crying - he’d never thought he'd experience this from two different people - but he held it in.

True to his word, Viggo was gentle. He moved slowly, almost carefully, and Hiccup hated it. He would have hated it if he was rough with him, but he especially hated this, because his body liked it more than the rough treatment and pain it was conditioned to receiving.

“How’s that, Hiccup?”

“Stop.”

“I know _you_ don’t personally like it, but how is it for your body?”

“Figure it out, genius,” Hiccup spat at him. Tears fell from his tightly shut eyes. 

Viggo hummed a little in satisfaction. “I see your tears, my dear. Would you like me to stop?” 

He couldn’t help it - he nodded. He doubted that Viggo would stop at this point even if he told him, but he had to try. 

“Then tell me your plan.” 

And, hating himself so much that he wished it would kill him, he did. Hiccup told him all of it, speaking between quiet sobs and moans. Whenever he faltered or paused for too long, even if he was just trying to breathe, Viggo would pick up his pace and urge him to continue. 

Finally, the plan was said. Hiccup squirmed a little, tugged at his bonds. 

“P-please stop,” he gasped out. “I-I told you what you wanted.” 

“Oh, Hiccup.” There was a pitying tone to his voice. “You really think I’m going to stop now? I don’t even think _I_ have that much self control.” 

“No, no, _please_.” He fought harder, biting his lip to hold in a particularly loud sob. The sound ached in his throat. 

“Remain still, Hiccup,” Viggo ordered. “If I hold on to you any harder I’ll leave bruises, and neither of us want that, do we? That would mean you’d have to tell Dagur where they came from, and I know you don’t want to do that.” 

Hiccup cursed Viggo in his head, because he was right, and because he was a liar. He’d told him that he’d stop if he told him, but now he wouldn’t. Hiccup cursed himself too for thinking that Viggo would stay true to his word. He had absolutely no reason to. 

So, he lay still and let him fuck him, starting to think that maybe he deserved it. He deserved it because he was stupid enough to fall for his lies, and even more, he deserved it for growing desperate and betraying his friends. 

The only good thing about this was that Viggo was rather quiet. Hiccup hated that Dagur wasn't, hated the reminders groaned into his ear that his body was being used for someone else’s pleasure. He was glad it wasn't like that with Viggo. 

He found himself biting the blanket again as the pleasure gradually moved towards its peak. It was taking longer than usual, as Viggo, hardly as familiar with his body as Dagur was, wasn't consistently hitting his prostate. Dagur knew every inch of him, inside and out, knew every little thing that could arouse him and set him off, but Viggo was only just learning. Hopefully he wouldn't get another chance to further his knowledge. 

That made Hiccup panic, start to worry that Dagur _would_ sell him to this man. If his only choices were Dagur and Viggo, he’d choose Dagur any day. If he had to pick one man to spend the rest of his miserable life with, he wanted it to be Dagur. 

His body seized control from him, growing desperate, and he let it, let himself fall into panic and self-loathing. It moved to meet each of Viggo’s thrusts as he screamed inside his head. 

He was trying not to scream outwardly as well. Once again, he found himself right at the threshold of climax, but unable to reach it, and it was beyond frustrating. He was still crying, but now the tears were because of that, of this ceaseless pleasure that was turning to agony. 

“Look at you,” Viggo breathed. “At how _desperate_ you are for the end. It's beautiful, really.” 

_Shut up. Just shut up and let me cum. Please._ Hiccup said none of this out loud of course. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction of that. 

Then he _was_ climaxing, the rod very swiftly and suddenly yanked out. He choked back a scream, bit down harder on the blanket and sobbed into it, shaking violently. He felt Viggo's body copy his, and though he'd now grown used to the feeling of another man finishing inside of him, he despised it. 

It was done. Hiccup released the blanket, heaving, gasping for breath. Viggo left him, released his legs. 

“Thank you for that, Hiccup,” he said breathlessly. Hiccup hated him for it, hated how he made it sound like he’d let him do this, even though in a way, he had. “It was truly a privilege. I had been hoping for that for some time.” 

Viggo must have found the cloths near the washbasin, because in a few moments he was using a damp one to clean over his abdomen. Then he was cleaning the head of his cock, the touch slightly painful. Hiccup grunted, pulled at his bonds. 

“I’ll untie you soon,” Viggo assured him. “Just give me a moment.” 

Once he finished cleaning up the both of them, he asked Hiccup to roll onto his stomach. He did, and Viggo tossed the cloth aside to untie him. 

“If Dagur asks about that, just tell him you were touching yourself.” 

“Okay,” Hiccup agreed hoarsely. He could feel himself on the verge of shock, trembling ever so slightly. 

Viggo finished untying him. “Now, get up and put your robe back on. I'm going to go to Dagur to discuss your purchase, so hopefully I’ll be seeing you again soon.” 

Hiccup wanted to swear at him out of spite, but he remained quiet. Viggo left, and it took him a while to make himself move, to get up and go pick up his robe where it’d been thrown on the ground. Once dressed, he considered going back and laying down, to let his own hatred consume him, but he decided against it. Still shaking, he picked up his book from the table and sat down, opening it to the page he'd left off on. He began to read, almost as if nothing had even happened. And, as far as Dagur was concerned, nothing had. 


	51. Chapter 50

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took a break from packing to bust this out. I'm very glad the last chapter was received well. I was afraid it wouldn't be. Thanks for reading, guys! Hope you like this one!

Dagur ran a hand through his hair, stunned by the letter in front of him. It’d been delivered by one of his spies, so it was a week or so old, but that didn’t change the relevance of the news. Nothing would with something like this.

Heather was pregnant.

“What?” he breathed to himself. “Whose baby could she be pregnant with?” He was rather stunned by the news, but he wasn't upset by it. He didn't really know _what_ he was feeling. He figured he needed time to process it, to really think about it.

“Sir, someone to see you.”

Dagur looked up from the letter to see one of his guards standing in the entrance of the tent.

“Not now. I'm busy.”

“It’s, um, Viggo Grimborn, sir.”

Dagur clenched his hands into fists, but managed to hold in his anger. He tried to make himself look relaxed in his chair. This was his camp. He had the power here.

“Fine. Let him in.”

The guard bowed and left, and then a moment later Viggo entered, seeming more confident and relaxed than usual.

_Great. He’s already enough of a pain to deal with._

“Viggo, what brings you here?” Dagur asked with an air of arrogance to his voice.

“Well, as I’m sure you’re very busy, I’ll get straight to the point.” Viggo steepled his fingers in front of him. “I would like to purchase Hiccup.”

Dagur looked at him dumbfounded for a moment before he started laughing. He slammed his hands down on the table.

“Viggo, I didn't take you for a comedian!” He kept laughing, almost on the verge of tears from how funny this was. He would never sell Hiccup to anyone, especially not this man. The very idea was absurd.

“I’m not.” There was clear anger in his voice, and it pulled Dagur from his fit of hilarity. “I am being serious and I would like you to treat me as such.”

“He’s not for sale,” Dagur said with a glare. “Why the Hel do you want him anyway?”

“He has information that can prove valuable to me,” Viggo answered, folding his hands behind his back.

“He didn't the last time you spoke to him.” Dagur stood, narrowed his eyes at him. He felt a hint of suspicion, but as to what, he didn't know. 

“Yes, well, circumstances have changed.”

“Too bad. You won't have him.” Dagur folded his arms.

“You haven't even heard my offer yet. I'm willing to pay you quite handsomely for him.”

“Why would I want money when I have him?” Dagur asked. “It's not gonna replace him.”

“You can buy another sex slave with the money I give you,” Viggo replied. “An entire harem if you wish.”

“He’s not my sex slave!” Dagur snapped. He began pacing, growing agitated. He just wanted Viggo to leave. “But whatever. You wouldn't understand.” He paused in his pacing, came around the table to face him. “I’ll hear you out if it’ll shut you up. What's your offer?”

“Five hundred gold pieces.”

“Nah.”

“Eight hundred.”

Dagur shook his head. “Still no.”

“A thousand.”

“Wow, you are willing to pay a _lot_ for him, aren’t you?” Dagur asked, amused. 

“Yes. I can go even higher if you wish.”

Dagur waved his hand dismissively. “That’s not necessary.”

Viggo’s eyes lit up a little. “So it’s a deal?”

“No, and it never will be.”

“Dagur just _think_ of what you can buy with all that money!” 

“I don't want money.”

“Then what else is it you want? I promise, I will be able to provide it.” There was a hint of desperation in his voice, his eyes.

“He’s _not for sale_ ,” Dagur stressed. He couldn't believe Viggo wanted him so badly, but then again, he couldn't necessarily blame him. It was Hiccup they were talking about. “Now if that's all you came here for I’d like you to leave.”

“I implore you to reconsider,” Viggo said, clasping his hands in front of him in a slightly pleading gesture.

“Viggo, it's not happening.”

“Fine.” Anger flashed in his eyes for a second, but quickly faded. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.” With that, he turned and left.

Dagur waited a bit before leaving as well. He didn’t want anyone, especially Viggo, thinking he was worried. Of course he was worried though. He didn’t like the interest that Viggo had taken in Hiccup, wondered if something had happened before he’d come to try to buy him.

He stamped through the muddied snow to his tent. He had things to take care of, but they could wait.

Hiccup was reading when he entered, and he looked up in surprise. “Dagur! I didn’t think you were going to be back till later.”

“Never mind that.” Dagur rushed over, pulled him up and took the book from him, placing it on the table. He ran his hands over him, checking for injury. 

“Whoa, Dagur, what are you doing?”

“Did he hurt you? Are you okay?”

Hiccup pulled away from him, looked at him in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Viggo. Was he here? Did he hurt you?” Dagur asked quickly, taking him by the shoulders.

“No. Dagur, I’m fine.” Hiccup laughed a little. “Why are you asking?”

Dagur let go of him, feeling relieved. He turned his back, paced a few feet. “He came to see me. He wanted to buy you so I thought maybe he did something to you.”

“Buy me?” There was a bit of horror in Hiccup’s voice. “You wouldn’t, would you?” he asked, clearly frightened.

“No, no!” Dagur turned back to him, took him by the shoulders again. “Never! Hiccup I’d _never_ get rid of you or give you to someone else,” he assured him. 

“Not even if they gave you a lot of money?”

Dagur shook his head. “Not even then, and Viggo offered me a _lot_.”

“How much?”

“Does it matter? It wasn’t worth it.” Dagur rubbed his hands over his arms. “He could offer me the whole world and I’d still say no.” He kissed him deeply, moved his hands to his hips. Hiccup’s arms went around the back of his neck as he tilted his head and kissed back. It pulled the tension out of Dagur’s body and he sighed a little when he pulled away.

“I’m still curious. How much does he think I’m worth?” Hiccup asked quietly. His mouth was still close to his, and it took all of Dagur’s willpower to keep from kissing him again.

“Well, he started at five hundred gold pieces,” Dagur began, “but then he went to eight hundred when I wouldn’t take that. Then one thousand.”

Hiccup’s eyes went big. “ _What?_ Berk doesn’t even _have_ that much gold! You sure he wasn’t trying to buy a couple of ships or something?” he joked.

“Nope, he wanted you. Said it was because you had information, but if you ask me I think he’s jealous.”  
“Jealous? Of you?”

Dagur came in and kissed Hiccup’s jaw, and Hiccup tilted his head back, allowing him to move his mouth to his neck. “And all the lovely things I get to do to you.” Dagur nipped at his neck and groaned. “And the things you do for me.” Dagur wanted him badly, but there wasn’t time for that. He still had a stack of papers on his desk to get through, never mind the one that he’d gotten from his spies. He pulled his head up. “And what you’re going to do for me right now to help me relax.” 

He turned them around, sat in the chair Hiccup had been in. He spread his legs and began undoing his belt as Hiccup knelt between them.

_I’m so glad I don’t have to fight him anymore._

Dagur breathed a small moan as Hiccup stroked his length with his good hand, ran his tongue along the tip.

“Ah, there’s a good boy,” he praised, running one hand through his hair. “I promise I’ll pay you back later, but I have to get back to work after this.”

Hiccup took him into his mouth, bobbed his head over him in a nod.

“ _Gods_ , that’s good, Hiccup.” Dagur leaned his head back. “Oh yeah, just like that. You have no idea how much I need this.”

Hiccup pulled off of him with an obscene pop, quickly filling the place his mouth had been with his hand. “Tough day so far?”

“Mm, you could say that. I got news from one of my spies on Berzerk.”

“And?”

“Well, Heather knows I’m watching her. _Ah_ , right there.” Dagur shifted his hips forward a little, loving what Hiccup was doing with his hand. “She and Astrid took one of the spies prisoner after he tried assassinating her, and I didn’t even _order_ anyone to kill her! People think they’re taking initiative but really they’re just screwing things up!”

“I know what that’s like. But… you said Astrid was with her?” Hiccup asked hesitantly.

“Yeah. Does that matter?” Dagur lifted his head and looked down at him, raised his eyebrows, daring him to say something he didn’t like.

“No, not at all.”

“Good answer. Now shut up and suck my dick.”

Hiccup lowered his head to do just that, and Dagur let his own rest back again, breathing a sigh.

“Anyway, I totally hope they kill that guy,” Dagur went on. “I don’t want Heather dead. Astrid, sure, but- hey, careful with the teeth! Okay, that’s better. _Yes_ , Hiccup. Good boy. That’s not even the craziest news I got today though.” He tightened his hold in Hiccup’s hair, released a pleased groan. He was getting much better at doing this. “I found out that- oh shit, right there - that Heather’s pregnant.”

Hiccup abruptly stopped what he was doing. “ _What?_ ”

“Yeah, I know. It’s crazy.”

“Uh, who’s the father?”

“No idea. The spy said she hasn’t announced it yet.” Dagur was about to order Hiccup to put his mouth back where it belonged, but he did so without having to be told. “I wonder if she’s gonna marry the guy. Damn, the thought of my little sis getting married is a little weird. Not that her being pregnant isn’t weird, but- _fuck_ , Hiccup.” For once, Dagur decided to stop talking. He could worry about all that later. For now, he would just enjoy this.

 

Hiccup wiped at his mouth in disgust. Dagur had just left, not staying long after finishing, which Hiccup was grateful for. He hated doing anything for him, and he especially hated having to give him blowjobs without complaint.

_I can’t wait till I get out of here._

Hiccup made his way to the entrance of the tent, poked his head out. Dagur had told him a few days ago that he could make requests of the guards if he needed anything, and right now, he needed to get drunk.

“Hey,” he called out to the two men standing between five to ten feet back from the entrance. They both looked over their shoulders at him, and then the one on the left came over.

“What is it, whore?”

Hiccup ground his teeth together at being addressed as such, but decided not to argue about it. “Can you have someone bring me a bottle of wine?”

“How about that slave girl you spend so much time with? I could get her to bring it.”

“Y-yeah, that would work.” Hiccup did want to see Bryn after all that had happened that day.

The guard smiled in a teasing way. “You like her, don’t you?”

“Wha- Why does that matter to you?” Hiccup hurriedly asked.

The man shrugged. “Ah, it doesn’t really. I was just curious. Your face turning red is answer enough.”

“Hey, hold on now-”

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell your daddy.” The guard laughed, and Hiccup’s face went even redder. “I can’t believe Dagur calls himself that. Has he had you call him that?”

Hiccup smoldered, angry and ashamed. “Just have her bring me the wine.” He went back inside, feeling like he wanted to kick something and cry. He settled for pacing, moving up and down the length of the tent in agitation, clenching and unclenching his left hand.

“Stupid Viggo,” he muttered under his breath. “Stupid Dagur. Stupid guard.” He made sure not to think too much on Viggo. That made him want to rip his hair out and then stab himself. He couldn’t believe that he’d given in to him, that he’d betrayed his tribe. If only he had a way to warn them.

A few minutes passed like this with him pacing and fuming. He felt much more than anger - despair, shame, misery - but anger was the only one he wanted to feel. The rest were weak emotions. Anger wasn’t. Nor was hatred, and he had a lot of that for himself at the moment.

“Hey, Hiccup, I got the wine you asked for.”

He turned to find Bryn standing near the entrance holding a bottle. He rushed up to her. “Oh, thank the gods.” He took it from her, began to wrestle with the cork. Once it was off he drank deeply from the bottle, welcoming the burn in his throat. After a few swallows he lowered it, looked from it to Bryn’s stunned expression. “Uh, sorry.”

“Rough day?”

He nodded, going to sit in the chair that Dagur had vacated. He gestured to the one across from him, that Viggo had sat in not even an hour ago. He brought up the bottle and took another swallow of wine as Bryn sat.

“What happened?” she asked gently.

“Viggo,” was all the answer Hiccup was able to give before the bottle was back at his lips. He downed about a quarter of it before stopping and wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “I’m sorry, Bryn. I know I’m being incredibly rude. How was your day?”

“Boring. It always is, but you always ask.”

“That’s because I don’t want everything being about _me_ all the time.” He took another drink. “Although everything is.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Viggo tried buying me from Dagur,” Hiccup told her. 

“That’s what has you this upset?” Bryn furrowed her brow.

“Not really. That’s only a very small part of it. Trust me, the other stuff that’s bothering me is _way_ worse.” He continued drinking, wanting to get more alcohol in him before he told her.

“Oh, what did Dagur do?”

Hiccup shook his head. “Not Dagur. Viggo. He…” He trailed off, thinking of how to phrase it. “Well, what Dagur does to me is called rape.” He paused to breathe deeply, unshed tears stinging in his eyes. He swallowed down the sobs that ached in his throat. “And Viggo, he…” He had to stop to breathe again, trying hard not to cry. He couldn’t look at Bryn, turned his head away. “He raped me. Viggo raped me.” He said it quietly, didn’t know if she’d even heard it. He brought the bottle back to his lips, drank deeply as tears began rolling down his face.

“Hiccup, I am _so_ sorry,” Bryn said after a bit of time in stunned silence.

“That’s not even all of it.” Hiccup put the bottle down on the table, hid his face in his hands. “H-he was using it to interrogate me. A-and I told him what he- what he wanted to know. He said he’d st-stop if I told him! But he didn’t stop, Bryn! He didn’t stop! And now all my friends and family are going to die because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut!” He suddenly felt Bryn’s arms around him. He didn’t hug back, just leaned into her. He cried hard and loud into her shoulder, nearly screaming. “I shouldn’t have said anything! I should have just let him do it!”

“Hiccup, don’t beat yourself up over it,” Bryn said softly. One of her hands went up to cradle the back of his head. “I’m sure you tried your best not to tell him.”

“M-my best wasn’t good enough!” he shouted. “I still told him and n-now they’re going to die!” His sobs were beginning to hurt his battered body, but he didn’t care. “I should have just taken it and kept my mouth shut!”

Bryn didn’t say anything to this, and Hiccup was fine with that. She didn’t need to say anything. He hugged her back, tightly. It was nice to be hugging someone other than Dagur.

After what seemed like ages, his tears began to slow. He didn’t know if it was because he was done crying or because he didn’t have anymore. He relaxed against Bryn, breathing deeply.

“Thank you, Bryn,” he said quietly. “Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I don’t even do that much,” she countered.

Hiccup pulled away, moved his hands to her face. He had the courage to meet her eyes. “No, you don’t understand. You are so important to me. You’re the only good thing in my life right now. I would have lost my mind ages ago if it weren’t for you. I would have _killed_ myself. Bryn, you’re what’s keeping me alive.” A swell of emotion overcame him, and he kissed her. She froze for a moment in evident shock before kissing him back. It was so different from Dagur: tentative, gentle, and unsure rather than ferocious and lustful and hungry. He loved it. 

But then he thought of the way Astrid kissed him, and a pit of guilt formed in his stomach, but he pushed it away. Wasn’t he allowed to at least enjoy one thing, _legitimately_ enjoy it instead of being forced to?

Hiccup tried his best to ignore his body, at the way arousal began to creep into his veins. He very gently slipped his tongue into Bryn’s mouth, his hands going to rest at her waist. One of her hands was on his shoulder, the other clutching his hair near the nape of his neck. She wasn’t very tall, so she didn’t have to lean over that much to meet his mouth while he was sitting and she was standing up.

They pulled away together. Bryn’s eyes were bright, a smile lighting her lips. Hiccup felt himself smile as well. He wanted to kiss her again, but didn’t, because part of him wanted to kiss her and _keep_ kissing her, lay her down on the fur rug, lift her skirt, and…

Bryn kissed him again and he panicked, not trusting himself, his body. He didn’t pull away though, didn’t want to ruin this for her like he had last time. But then again, it wasn’t him. It was _Dagur_. Dagur had ruined this for him, had made his body like this. He’d destroyed the meaning of innocence, had made it so that almost any and every touch made him crave sex. It was despicable. Hiccup knew he shouldn’t, but he hated himself even more for it. It was _his_ body after all. Shouldn’t he be able to have some semblance of control over it?

_Disgusting. You’re disgusting, Hiccup._

Bryn pulled away, stroked his cheek. He somehow made himself look at her, made himself smile.

“Are you gonna be okay? Emotionally, I mean?”

Hiccup nodded. A lie.

“Okay.” She kissed him on the cheek. “I have to go.” She nodded towards the bottle. “Please don’t drink that whole thing.”

“I won’t.” Another lie. Probably. “Bye, Bryn.”

“Bye, Hiccup.”

Hiccup reached for the bottle immediately when she left, but stopped with it halfway to his lips.

_Maybe I shouldn’t…._

“Ah, who the Hel am I kidding?” He brought it to his lips, and drank.

 

Dagur came back before dinner, which Hiccup was okay with. He didn’t want to see Bryn at the moment. He just lay on the bed and stared at the roof of the tent, rolling the empty wine bottle between his hands.

“You drank that whole thing?”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

“Do-I need a reason?” Hiccup asked.

“Usually people only drink that much when they’re upset,” Dagur said, sitting beside him and taking it from his hands. He would have been sitting on the cloth that Viggo had used to clean him, but he’d stuck it in the middle of the pile of clothes that needed washing. 

“Mm-hm.”

“So you’re upset?”

“No.”

Dagur was silent for a moment. Then he asked: “Hiccup, do you think you’re my sex slave?”

“Wha?”

“Just, everybody seems to think you’re my sex slave,” Dagur said. “But you’re not.”

“You had me chained up fer like, two monts,” Hiccup slurred out. “Sooo yeah, I think I’m your sex slave.”

“You’re _not_ ,” Dagur insisted.

“Uh huh.” 

“I… I did that so you wouldn’t get away!”

“Mm.”

“You’re not my sex slave!” Dagur cried. “I swear! You’re more to me than that!”

 _You’re delusional_. Hiccup didn’t dare to say this out loud though, knew that he would have to face Dagur’s violent side if he did.

“’Kay.”

“Hiccup, I’m being serious.”

“I know. Said ’kay.”

Dagur sighed. “Why am I arguing with you when you’re this drunk? You’re probably not gonna remember most of it anyway.”

“Wishh is one reason I drank the whooole bottle.”

“And the other reason is…?”

“Viggo,” he answered honestly. He could. Dagur would think he was just talking about how he’d tried buying him.

“Hiccup, it’s okay. I told him no.” He bent and put the bottle on the floor, began taking off his armor. 

“Scares me.”

“Viggo scares you?”

Hiccup nodded.

“Well, can’t blame you for that. You haven’t exactly had good experiences with him, have you?” 

Hiccup said nothing else as Dagur finished taking off his armor. Then he was on top of him, mouth nearly touching his.

“I won’t sell you to him, okay? I won’t sell you to anyone.” He kissed him. “You’re mine forever.”

Hiccup was glad he’d shed all his tears earlier, or he would have started crying. Instead he just nodded when Dagur pulled away, managed to say one word:

“Forever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, Dagur's delusions are alive and well.


	52. Chapter 51

“Hiccup, you wouldn’t leave me, would you?”

“Hm?” Hiccup had been drifting off, hadn’t expected Dagur to speak. As was usual, he was cuddled naked in his arms, Dagur’s body against his back. “Dagur, it’s late. Can we-” he was interrupted by a yawn- “talk about this in the morning?”

“It’s just something I worry about,” he told him. “Since it seems that everyone leaves me. My dad left me, Heather left me.”

“I thought you saved her from being executed,” Hiccup mumbled. He was tired and didn’t want to talk, but it was hard to ignore Dagur.

“I did, but now I’m pretty sure she hates me.” The sadness in his voice surprised Hiccup. He hadn’t thought he’d cared all that much. “I mean, she pretty much declared war on me.”

“But there hasn’t been any fighting yet,” Hiccup reasoned. “Maybe there doesn’t have to be. You should meet with her. Negotiate.”

“Nah, that’s a weak move.” Dagur adjusted his hold on him. “I guess I’ll just wait and see what happens.” He was silent for a moment. “But you won’t leave me like everyone else, will you?”

_In a heartbeat._

“Never.”

Dagur kissed his cheek, smiled against his skin. “Thank you, Hiccup. Love you.”

“Love you too, Dagur,” he murmured. Each word felt like a stab to his heart.

 

Hiccup was startled by Bryn rushing into the tent. She was a little out of breath, as if she'd run there. Hope swelled in his chest when he noticed the snowflakes decorating her hair.

“Hiccup, it's snowing!” she informed him excitedly.

He quickly stood and went over to her. “How much? Is it heavy? Light?”

“On the heavy side,” she answered. “It should cover your tracks.”

Hiccup smiled, but then suddenly grew nervous. He was going to do it. He was actually going to do it. It wasn't just some idea drifting around in his head. It was right here in front of him… And he had to move instead of standing there like an idiot.

_Clothes. Gotta get clothes._

Dagur’s would have to do for now. Hiccup turned and went over to one of the chests, began rifling through it for something to wear.

“Bryn, you’re going to have to distract the guards when I tell you to.”

“How am I going to do that?”

“Just talk to them. Come up with something.”

Finding a tunic and a pair of pants, Hiccup stood, began untying the sash to his robe. He could use his right hand a little bit now.

“Turn your back,” he told her. He didn't check to see if she'd done it, confident that she had, and took off his robe, dropping it on the cot. Hopefully that would be the last he ever saw of that piece of clothing.

“I won't be able to distract them for too long,” Bryn said. “The soldiers don't usually waste their time talking to slaves.”

“Yeah, I know.” Hiccup pulled on the pants. They felt strange and even a little uncomfortable after not having worn any for so long. “But I don't need too long. I just have to circle around the tent and get out of sight.” He put on the tunic, then looked down at his bare foot. He was going to have to take one of Dagur's shoes too. He decided on a sock first and went back over to the chest.

“I can show you the way,” Bryn offered. “You would just have to keep your head down.”

“Too dangerous for you,” Hiccup told her. He found a sock and sat down on the cot to put it on. “I’m decent by the way.”

Bryn turned back around. She wore a little smile.

“What?”

“This is the first time I’ve seen you in real clothes.”

“Yeah, haven't been in them in a while. The pants feel kind of weird.” He picked at the tunic. “And this is too big.”

Bryn giggled. “Kind of looks like you're wearing a dress.”

Hiccup smiled at that. “I bet it does.” He moved down onto the ground. Dagur kept an extra pair of boots under the cot. He reached for the right one, paused when he caught sight of the bottle of oil. He frowned, then very suddenly had the urge to smash it out of spite. He took it and the boot, then stood, studying it and wondering if he _should_ smash it.

“Hiccup, what is it?”

“Something, um…” There was no way to explain. He clutched the bottle tight, anger raging through him. Then he hefted it at the ground. There was the satisfying sound of breaking glass, and he watched as the oil pooled out around the shards. “Well now it's nothing.” He sat to put on the boot. “Bryn, once I’m gone, you have to stay as far away from Dagur as possible. He’ll be on a rampage. And if he thinks that someone helped me get free…” Hiccup shuddered. “Just don't go anywhere near him, okay?” 

“Okay.”

Hiccup began questioning his escape as he wiggled his toes around in the boot to test how it felt. Dagur would be raging, inconsolable and furious. The pain and destruction he would cause among his own people would be terrible. They might be against him and Berk, but they didn't deserve that.

“I don't know if I can do it.”

“What? Why not?” Bryn asked, coming over to him.

“Dagur will hurt people. He’ll _kill_ people over losing me,” Hiccup explained. “He’s done it before and he’ll do it again.” He looked down. “And if I can prevent that, then-”

“Hiccup, you _have_ to go.” Bryn’s hands fell on his shoulders, and he looked at her. “Please. I can’t stand him hurting you anymore.”

“I can if it means he won’t hurt anybody else.”

“Don’t think about anyone else. Think of yourself. Please.”

Hiccup thought for a bit. Escaping would be selfish since he knew what the aftermath would be like for those around Dagur, but didn’t he have the right to be selfish? Couldn’t he worry about himself just this once?

Guilt clenching his stomach along with the anxiety, he nodded, then stood, Bryn’s hands sliding from his shoulders. 

“Okay, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.” He drew in a deep breath. _I can do this, I can do this._

Bryn very suddenly hugged him, squeezing him tight. He hugged back, comforted by the contact.

“Good luck, Hiccup. And promise you’ll come back and get me?”

“Promise. I’ll be the guy riding the Night Fury,” he responded with a smile. Then he pulled away just enough so that he could lean down and kiss her. Bryn smiled against his lips. “Now go distract those guards for me.”

Bryn nodded, kissed him on the cheek, and then left the tent. Hiccup waited for a few moments before going over and sticking his head outside. The snow was thick enough so that he had a little trouble seeing Bryn and the guards, but they were certainly distracted.

Hiccup stepped outside. 

He took a small moment to revel in it. He hadn’t been outside in two months. The air was bitingly cold, but refreshing, the snow wet on his face. If there hadn’t been a need for quiet he would have laughed.

Hiccup didn’t stop for long though. He quickly circled around the side of the tent, then looked down and behind him to see how quickly his tracks were covered by the snow. After about thirty seconds, the outline of them was faint.

_That’ll do._

Dagur’s tent was luckily on the edge of the camp rather than the middle of it. Hiccup figured it was for privacy reasons, and he was grateful for it. The ground sloped upwards towards the treeline, and Hiccup moved for it as quickly as he could in a foot of snow. He knew he was moving in the opposite direction of the closer shore, but he needed to get to high ground so he could get a clear view of his surroundings.

He didn’t slow once in the trees, wanting to put as much distance between himself and the camp as quickly as possible. Only when he was gasping for breath did he stop behind a tree to rest. 

_I’m out. Oh my gods, I’m actually out._ Hiccup didn’t let his hope get too high though. He was out, but he wasn’t in the clear.

 

“Hey, Hiccup, how’s-” Dagur paused, looked around the tent. First he felt confusion. “Hiccup?” No answer. Then came the sinking feeling in his gut. He saw the bottle of oil smashed on the ground, and Hiccup’s robe discarded on the cot, but there was no Hiccup.

“ _No!_ ” Dagur wanted to throw something, kick something. “No, no, no!” Betrayal and hurt burned in his blood. With a roar, he stomped back out of the tent and into the snow, heading towards the two guards that had clearly failed at doing their job. He grabbed them both by the shoulders, yanking them around. “Where’s Hiccup?!”

They looked between each other, then at him. “He’s not in the tent?” one of them asked.

“No! Why do you think I’m out here talking to you idiots?! Did you see him leave?!”

One shook his head while the other said: “No, my lord.”

Dagur let go of them, releasing a yell of frustration. “Useless! Absolutely useless!” He turned, pulling at his hair. “Okay, okay, if I was Hiccup, what direction would I go in?” he asked himself. He looked beyond his tent, towards the slope and the forest. There. He went forward, looking down to see if there were tracks. There was nothing; the snow was clear. “Shit, he’s been out for a while.” He whipped back around to the guards, pointing. “Get a few more men! And bring me some rope! I’m not letting him get away!”

 

Hiccup froze when he heard a shout in the distance. He couldn’t tell what was said, but it was definitely Dagur. He’d found out that he was gone.

_Shit. I was hoping it’d be later than that._

Hiccup tried to move faster, but the snow weighed him down and he tripped, fell forward into it. Panic swelled up inside of him and he scrambled back up, brushing the snow off of himself. 

“No, no, don’t panic Hiccup,” he breathed to himself. “It’s still snowing. He can’t follow you if it’s still snowing.” Gritting his teeth, he continued on.

“ _Hiccup!_ ” The shriek cut through the air. He looked behind him, but he couldn’t see very far, his visibility cut down by the snow and the trees. There was panic in Dagur’s voice. “ _Hiccup!_ ”

Hiccup changed direction, began moving to the right instead of straight. He tried calming himself as he moved. He was in the forest, he had a head start on Dagur, and it was still snowing. There’d be no way for Dagur to know which direction he was going in. He just had to keep moving.

There were more shouts of his name, but he paid no attention to it. Did Dagur really think he was going to answer him?

He began shivering as he trudged through the snow. He’d been out here long enough for it to begin to seep through his borrowed clothes and his boot. He wished he had some more layers. He hadn’t thought of how long he’d be out here, and was now starting to realize that in a few hours he’d most likely freeze to death.

_Better that than go back to Dagur._

He continued on.

 

Dagur didn’t know what he was expecting from shouting Hiccup’s name. Part of him hoped he’d get a response, but he knew that was ridiculous. Hiccup wasn’t lost out here. He was running from him.

 _He said he wouldn’t leave me! He said he’d_ never _leave me!_

Tears stung at his eyes and he angrily wiped them away, not wanting his men to see. He hoped it came off as him trying to get snow out of his eyes. He was overcome with a wave of hurt, but it was soon followed by anger. When he found Hiccup he’d pay for this.

“Spread out!” he ordered his men. “Look for any sign of which direction he went in!”

Dagur let himself fantasize about what he’d do to Hiccup when he got him back, but the thoughts brought him no joy. He was still stuck on the fact that he’d left him. Everyone always left him, and now that included Hiccup.

 

The snow began to slow.

 _No! No, no!_ Hiccup looked up at the sky, silently begging for it to snow harder. The flakes were just drifting now. He glanced behind him, could see his tracks a few feet back. They wouldn’t be hidden so well now.

“Shit,” he muttered, and as he said it, it felt like a stone fell into his stomach. 

He kept on anyway, determined. Then he was crushed by a sense of hopelessness, realization. 

_How am I supposed to get off the island anyway? How do I even know it’s an island? I could be on the mainland somewhere for all I know!_

Frustrated tears welled in his eyes, spilled down his cheeks in hot trails that nearly burned his icy skin. Desperate and confused, he picked up his pace. He _had_ to get away. He just had to.

 

“Sir, I found footprints!”

Dagur rushed over to the soldier that had called out, panting, his fur-lined cloak billowing out behind him.

“Well, you know, one footprint and the other is his metal leg,” the man said, pointing towards the indents. It had all but stopped snowing, so the tracks were clear.

Dagur smiled. Hiccup wouldn’t get away now.

He took off, running as best as he could through the snow, though each step submerged him past his ankles. That just added to his frustration, his anger. But then he told himself that, had there been no snow at all, Hiccup’s tracks wouldn’t be as clear. It was helping him find him.

_Oh, when I get my hands on him..._

 

“Hiccup!”

Panic stabbed him in the stomach. The shout was _much_ closer than before, and it sounded more like it was one of recognition rather than one that was looking for a response. He whipped around, caught a glimpse of Dagur through the trees.

“No. No, no, no, no.” His voice came out as a despairing whimper. He turned, tripped and fell, got back up.

“Hiccup, you get back here you son of a bitch!”

He tried to run, but he wasn’t fast, the snow pulling on his foot and his prosthetic - and his muscles weren’t used to it anymore. They were weaker. _He_ was weaker.

He could hear Dagur crashing through the snow, gaining on him, and fear quickened his movements.

Dagur was still faster. In a few moments he was right behind him.

_No!_

Hiccup screamed in terror and dread when Dagur threw himself at him. He fell, Dagur on top of him. He thrashed, still screaming, trying his hardest to get out from under him. He elbowed him in the stomach, and then Dagur’s weight was gone from him. He was only free for a moment, Dagur grabbing at him and rolling him onto his back.

“Rope!” Dagur shouted. “Get me the rope!”

“ _Get off of me!_ ” Hiccup bellowed. He tried hitting him with his left hand, but Dagur grabbed his wrist. “ _Get off!_ ” His right hand was still free. He hit him in the face, and pain exploded into his right hand. His fingers hadn’t been healed enough for that. He shrieked, writhing underneath Dagur, who was quickly recovering from the blow to his face.

Dagur let go of his wrist, and he went to hit him, but then his hand went over his mouth, the other pinching his nose. Hiccup instead grabbed at his hand, trying to pull his fingers loose. Tears streamed down his face.

He’d failed.

Hiccup thrashed and struggled, but Dagur was straddling him and holding onto him with his knees, and his grip on him was tight. He was stuck trying desperately to pull in a breath, chest heaving. There was a strangled noise in his throat, an attempt at a sob. He wanted to scream.

He felt himself weakening and his vision began to tunnel. All he saw was Dagur’s ferocious eyes.

Then, he let go of him. Hiccup sucked in air, let it out in a hybrid of a cough and a sob. His vision went black as his air came back to him, and the last thing he felt was rope being tied around his wrists.


	53. Chapter 52

Hiccup was dragged slowly from sleep by chills racking his body. Something didn’t feel right, like he was standing instead of lying down.

_Why would I be…?_

Then he remembered. He’d tried escaping. Dagur had gotten him. 

“ _Nooo_ ,” Hiccup moaned quietly. He tugged a little on the rope that bound his hands and was attached somewhere above his head to keep him standing. He was naked, which would explain the chill, and it felt like there was something around his neck. The cuff was back on his ankle, metallic and familiar.

“Hey, Hiccup. Sleep well?” There was a malicious, angered tone in Dagur’s voice.

Hiccup wanted to cry, but he swallowed down the ache in his throat and opened his eyes. Dagur was sitting in front of him in one of the chairs. Looking up, he found that his rope had been secured to one of the beams that kept up the tent. He looked back to Dagur.

“I’m sorry.”

Dagur stood, came close to him, nose almost touching his. “No you’re not. You’re not sorry for anything, Hiccup. You…” He took a deep breath, and Hiccup noticed tears glistening in his eyes. “You said you loved me, that you wouldn’t leave me, and then you tried to.”

“That’s because I _lied_ , Dagur,” Hiccup spat. “I hate you. I want you dead.”

Dagur shouted, backhanded him hard across the face. Hiccup was stunned for a moment, and he would have lost his balance if not for the rope. 

_Maybe I shouldn’t have said that last bit._ Hiccup had never wanted anyone dead in his life, had never wanted to kill anyone before, but Dagur… He wanted to castrate him and then slit his throat.

“But you said you wouldn’t leave me. You said you _wouldn’t._ ” 

Hiccup looked back at him, fought the urge to glare. There was a tear trailing down Dagur’s scarred cheek. He asked: “What’s on my neck?”

Dagur looped his finger under whatever it was, pulled him forward by it. “That’s your collar,” he growled. 

“Wh-why do I have it?” Hiccup’s stomach churned.

“Because I feel that you need another reminder of who you belong to,” Dagur explained, releasing him. “Me! You belong to me!”

Hiccup directed his gaze to the ground. “I-I know that,” he uttered quietly.

“Do you?”

A sob clogged up his throat and he couldn't talk. His shoulders shook as it released. He nodded, tears spilling over.

“Then say it.”

Hiccup shook his head.

“Say it!”

“I-I-I b-belong to you.”

“Good. Again.”

“ _No_.”

“ _Again_ ,” Dagur insisted.

“Y-you already heard- heard me s-say it,” Hiccup stuttered. He pulled on his ropes again, though he knew there was no point. He wondered why Dagur had him tied up like this if he was just talking.

“Fine.” He sensed Dagur walk away from him, towards the table. When he returned, he roughly grabbed at Hiccup's hair and yanked his head up. He noted with a sense of dread that he was holding a flask.

_No, no, he’s gonna drug me again!_

Hiccup fought to free himself from Dagur's grip, but he had purchase near his scalp, so movement was minimal. Dagur let go of his hair, but only to pinch his nose, and Hiccup closed his eyes.

 _Let me breathe. Please let me breathe._ But there was only one way Hiccup could breathe and that would mean opening his mouth.

“Come on, Hiccup,” Dagur coaxed. His voice was sweet like poison. “Open that pretty mouth.”

He wanted to struggle, but he didn't. That would make him run out of air faster. Maybe he’d have the willpower to let himself faint.

A minute passed. Hiccup’s chest hurt. He could hear his heart beating in his head.

Two minutes. He was shaking, jaw clenched to the point of pain. Dagur's eyes were boring into him, fiery and malicious. He could tell he was growing impatient.

Hiccup couldn't do it anymore. Desperate to breathe, he opened his mouth, sucked in air. He planned on closing it again once he got in a breath, but once he was doing it he couldn't stop. Tears fell from his tightly shut eyes.

Dagur let him gasp for a moment or two before shoving the flask to his lips. He grabbed his hair again, tilted his head back so that the liquid would go into his mouth and down his throat. He tried not to swallow, but it was difficult, and soon he found himself doing just that. Whatever it was he was giving him tasted awful and he shuddered as he was forced to ingest it. Each swallow deepened the pit in his stomach.

Finally, the flask was empty and Dagur let go of him. Hiccup hung his head in defeat, heaved a sob. He wanted to scream. The drug was in him now, and all he could do was wait for it to take effect. 

“Wh-what’d you give me?”

“The same one I did before,” Dagur answered. He trailed a hand over his body and Hiccup curved away from it, but it just followed him. “It can be as terrible as it is fun.”

“That wasn't _fun_ ,” Hiccup snapped, anger surging up. He lifted his head, narrowed his eyes at Dagur, who cupped his cheek with one hand.

“Then why’d you cum three times?”

“It’s… it’s not my f-fault!”

“You begged me for more.” Dagur kissed him on the mouth and he cringed. Then, once his mouth was free, he screamed, screamed in anger and terror and despair.

“No, sh, Hiccup, don't scream,” Dagur crooned after he quieted. “Save that for when it hurts, and believe me, it _will_ hurt.”

 

Time passed. Hiccup lost track of it after a while. A feeling of weightlessness began to set in, and if he closed his eyes it felt like he was floating, flying even. He wished he was. To be with Toothless and up in the air again would be like Valhalla to him. 

Dagur didn’t touch him or talk to him in that time. It was dark save for the brazier and a lantern or two. Hiccup figured it was the middle of the night. He tried twisting around to see what Dagur was doing, but couldn’t move very effectively. It was possible he was even sleeping.

Though he should have, Hiccup didn’t feel tired. There was an odd buzz of energy overtaking him, but at the same time a lightheadedness that made him wish he wasn’t standing.

Hiccup listed to the side, but the ropes kept him up. It was difficult to hold himself upright. He knew it was the drug affecting him, feared for when he’d lose himself in it. The inevitability of it made him feel sick. 

He tried focusing on something, on thinking, but his thoughts kept drifting into nonsense and nothingness, almost like he was falling asleep. He shook his head to try and clear it, but that just struck him with a wave of dizziness that made his knees buckle and the rope tug painfully on his arms. He forced himself back up with a groan through gritted teeth.

After a while, or maybe after no time at all, Hiccup laughed. He didn’t know why. There was nothing to laugh about, nothing funny about this situation. This scared him and his tears returned. He cried while he laughed. Or maybe he wasn’t even laughing. Maybe he was just crying.

“Ugh, that time already?” came Dagur’s voice, heavy with sleep, from behind him.

“What do you-” a sob, or maybe a laugh- “mean?”

“Well, the laughter means the drug is really starting to take effect.”

Those words solidified the dread in his stomach, spread it outwards to the rest of his body. He laughed anyway, unable to stop himself. He sensed Dagur moving behind him, but couldn’t hear what he was doing due to his own sobs and laughter. He wanted it to stop, but it wouldn’t end. He kept laughing right up until something tore across his back.

Hiccup shrieked and arched forward, expecting another blow. There was none. Dagur had circled around to his front, and in one hand he held a whip, looking quite proud of himself.

“You like this?” A drop of Hiccup’s blood rolled off of the corded leather. “I got it just for you.”

“D-Dagur, please don’t.” It was hard to get the words out of his mouth, to make his tongue and lips move in the right way to shape them.

“Why shouldn’t I? You were going to leave me.”

“Please.”

“ _Oh_ and you’ll hurt so much more from this than usual.” A sick glee lighted in Dagur’s eyes. “One of the very lovely things that nutmeg does is sensitize your nerves.” He ran a hand over his chest and Hiccup closed his eyes, nearly groaned from how good that felt. At the same time, the wound across his back burned. He felt like he had been going to ask Dagur something, possibly about what he’d given him, but the words wouldn’t come.

Dagur circled around him, trailing his fingers over his side and around to his back. Hiccup couldn’t help sighing at the sensation. But then, sooner than he liked, the gentle touch was gone, replaced with a terrible fire that slashed at his skin. 

He let himself scream, didn’t know how he’d be able to hold it in when something hurt this badly. He arched and struggled and twisted, but Dagur still tore at him with the whip.

Hiccup had no way of knowing how long it lasted, but at some point it stopped. He sagged against the ropes, panting, sweating. His back burned with an agony he’d never felt before. He wanted to pass out, but there was still that energy somewhere inside of him, that pleasant buzz that was keeping him from unconsciousness. He hated it.

Then suddenly, Dagur was yelling. The sound crashed around the inside of his head.

“You stupid son of a bitch!” The whip came down, harder than any of the times before it. The pain stole Hiccup’s breath from him.

“You said you wouldn’t leave me!” Hiccup was able to scream this time. 

“You said you loved me!” Each statement that was shrieked at him was accentuated by a hard blow. “But you lied, Hiccup! You lied! _Lied!_ ”

If it hadn’t been for the drug, Hiccup would have been knocked unconscious by the sheer power in the last blow. He had trouble keeping his footing as he bellowed, and once his voice died down he heard something he hadn’t expected: sobbing. Dagur was crying.

“Y-you said you wouldn’t leave. You p-promised.” His voice was a whimper.

Hiccup didn’t know how to feel about this. He’d never heard Dagur cry like this before. Though, it didn’t change his feelings about him, not in the slightest. Dagur deserved to suffer.

“ _Promised_ , Hiccup! You promised!” 

Hiccup braced himself, expecting to be hit once more, but it never happened. Instead Dagur came around to face him again. He flinched as he took his face in both hands, but then relaxed a little. That meant he was no longer holding the whip. That was hopefully over.

Dagur kissed him hard, no doubt bruising his lips. He violently fought his tongue into his mouth. Hiccup tried to pull back but there was nowhere for him to go. Dagur bit his lower lip before pulling away, drawing blood, and Hiccup grunted at the sharp spark of pain.

“I hate you so much right now, Hiccup.” His voice shook with emotion. “I hate you so damn _much_.”

“Th-then…” He had to pause and try again. His tongue felt thick in his mouth. Blood was beginning to drip down his legs. “Kill me.” He opened his eyes to look at Dagur, and the world was something he hadn’t expected it to be. Everything was rocking back and forth, like he was on a ship in the middle of a storm. Dagur stood in the middle of it untouched. He shook his head.

“No. I love you too. And I hate you. It might not make sense but it’s true.” The tears on his face seemed to slide around of their own free will. Beginning to feel a little nauseated by all the movement, Hiccup closed his eyes.

Hiccup couldn’t hold in a breathy moan as Dagur moved his hands down his body. He curved into it, desperate for something that wasn’t pain. And when he touched his hardening cock it was like the best thing in the world. He cried out, knees shaking. He knew this was awful, that he shouldn’t be enjoying something from Dagur, but why should he hate it if it didn’t hurt?

Very suddenly, it did. He’d slapped him. Hard. He forgot how to breathe for a few moments as agony coursed through him.

“Ooh, I bet that hurt.” Dagur’s tone was taunting. He hit him again and Hiccup found the air to shriek. His cock throbbed a little after that slap. Pain worked its way through his member and into his stomach.

“St- _argh!_ ”

“What were you saying, Hiccup? I didn’t quite catch that.”

Hiccup didn’t even bother to speak, knew that Dagur was going to hit him again before he could tell him to stop. 

Three more hits and Hiccup couldn’t hold himself up anymore. He hung from the ropes, shaking and sobbing, wishing he were dead.

Another hit and he almost threw up at how bad the pain was. 

“ _Stop_.”

Dagur, of course, didn’t listen. Hiccup couldn’t even scream, anguish squeezing the air from his lungs.

Then Dagur was stroking his aching and stinging member, as if trying to soothe the hurt he’d done. Hiccup sobbed at his touch.

“So, Hiccup, tell me who this belongs to.”

“You,” he moaned out, knowing he couldn’t deny him.

“Good. Very good. What about this?” He asked the question as he leaned down and cupped his balls with his other hand.

“Y-you.”

“That’s right.” Then Dagur’s hands went around him, pulling him back up to a standing position by a bruising grip on the backs of his thighs, wetting his hands with blood. He squeezed his ass. “This?”

“ _You_.” Hiccup wanted Dagur to stop this. Was he going to touch every part of his body and make him say it was his?

“That a boy, Hiccup. There’s a good boy.” He kissed the side of his face and Hiccup cringed. “You’re mine. All mine. Every part of you belongs to me.”

Dagur began kissing his way down his torso, and Hiccup pleaded with his body not to like it, but his oversensitive nerves were singing, even as he ran his mouth over each of the scabbed runes in his right thigh. Then his mouth was on his cock, gentle and warm and soothing. Hiccup’s hips moved into it as he moaned. He let himself hope that maybe the torture was over.

It wasn't. He yelped at the sensation of Dagur's teeth on his sore flesh. He didn't bite hard, but he didn't need to to inflict a serious amount of pain.

“ _Oh gods, stop! Dagur, please!_ ”

Dagur moved his head slowly up and down, scraping against him with his teeth. Hiccup wailed, attempted to stay still because movement would only make it worse. He wished he would hurt him anywhere but here.

Dagur's teeth vanished, replaced by his tongue. Hiccup cried he was so confused. Sensation wasn't making sense to him. There was just too much of it, pain and pleasure beating around inside of him.

Dagur used his teeth again. Hiccup yelped, made to pull back, but his hands grasped at his hips, staining them with blood. His grip was painful, crushing, and his teeth were even worse. Some part of him feared that he was going to bite off his cock.

“Dagur, stop! Please, please, please!” He hated begging to him like this, but he couldn’t help it. Maybe if he did it enough he’d listen to him. “ _Please…_ ”

Pain. Pleasure. More pain. More pleasure. Dagur alternated between using his teeth and his tongue, but soon it didn’t matter what he was doing - any contact hurt. Hiccup begged until his mouth refused to form the words. Then he just cried, confused and lost in a sea of sensation, wishing his ability to speak hadn’t been taken from him.

Dagur stopped. He cried harder with relief at the loss of contact. Bloodied hands trailed up his body, grabbed at his face.

“Hiccup, look at me.”

Hiccup opened his eyes to meet Dagur’s, and he suddenly felt like he was falling forward into them, like he was being sucked into that green fire. Flames came out and licked at him, twisted around his neck. He screamed and thrashed as the fire roped around his body and yanked him forward, pulling him towards a dark pit that he couldn’t see the bottom of. He kept screaming.

There was a blow to his face that made his world go black for a moment. When his vision returned it was just Dagur in front of him. No pit, no fire. Though it looked like the shadows around him were moving, breathing, like there was some giant, malicious creature in the dark. Hiccup shuddered as he watched it, eyes flitting around.

“Hiccup?”

Apparently Dagur had said something. His attention went back to him, and his image swayed from side-to-side. He whimpered, squeezed his eyes shut. That didn’t help much. The usually comforting darkness behind his eyelids slithered back and forth.

“Hiccup, look what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

Hope sparked in Hiccup’s chest. “Da…?” He couldn’t make his mouth work properly. He opened his eyes again, but he didn’t see his father. “Where…?” 

“This is all your fault, Hiccup.”

He sobbed, the words a stab to the chest.

“Sorry, dad. Sorry.”

“You’re disgusting.”

Hiccup hung his head, crying hard. He didn’t know how he still had tears left. “Sorry!”

“You’re shameful.”

Hiccup wanted to apologize, but the words were stuck in his mouth. 

“I don’t want you. No one wants you.”

“I…”

“You’re not my son.”

“ _Sorry._ He… Help.”

“You deserve this, Hiccup.”

“Hiccup, who are you talking to?” That was Dagur. “What do you hear?”

Hiccup just groaned and shook his head. 

“Hiccup, tell me.”

“Dad,” Hiccup made himself answer. “H-he… hates… me… D-doesn't want… me. N-no one… wants me.”

“No one except for me,” Dagur told him. He was touching him again and Hiccup shivered as he trailed his own blood over him. “I’ll always want you. No one else matters.”

“ _No_.”

Dagur's hands disappeared for a moment and Hiccup felt him circling around behind him. He tensed, knew what was coming next.

“Hm, seeing as you stupidly smashed the oil we’re going to have to improvise.” Dagur placed his hands on the wounds in his back. Hiccup jerked and screamed, a new fire racing through him. He screamed even louder when Dagur dragged his fingers over the wounds. He wished to pass out. He wished to die.

Then Dagur's hands were gone, Hiccup’s wounds left twinging in protest. He moaned when he felt Dagur's blood soaked fingers against his hole, his other hand holding his hip to keep him still. He shoved two fingers in much too hard and Hiccup gave a cry.

“Does that hurt, Hiccup?”

He sobbed, nodded.

“ _Good._ I _want_ you to hurt.” Dagur's anger had returned. His fingers went deeper, hit his prostate. There was a spark of pleasure among the pain. His manhood throbbed painfully as it hardened once again.

Dagur pressed at that spot and Hiccup was hit with a wave of pleasure that made it difficult to stay standing. He moaned loudly, trembling slightly.

“The best part about this Hiccup is that I can make it hurt too.” Dagur's voice was heavy in his ear. He gnawed at it as he pressed harder. Hiccup released his voice, writhed in his grip, fear pulsing through him at his words.

Harder, deeper. Pain broke into the pleasure, a pain Hiccup had never felt before.

“Ssst-” He wanted to tell him to stop, but he’d forgotten how. 

Dagur slipped in a third finger, the stretch burning. He pressed that against his prostate too, kept applying pressure. Hiccup could feel an orgasm building even as the pain intensified. He cried out, tugged weakly at his ropes.

“Am I hurting you?” Dagur asked with his mouth pressed against his ear.

Hiccup gave a small nod, lower lip trembling. He whimpered. He opened his mouth to tell him to stop, to plead with him, just to say no, but his tongue was heavy and refused to move. He only managed to moan despairingly.

His orgasm suddenly hit him. It was like an intense blow, and he sagged backwards against Dagur, wailed as pleasure pounded unrelentingly through him. Even as that happened his stomach twisted. He knew what Dagur was going to do next.

He let him be for a moment or two afterwards, let him try to catch his breath. Then his hand was no longer on his hip, going to grasp at his bruised and spent cock.  
Hiccup shrieked as he pumped him, the fingers inside of him rubbing too hard against his prostate. But then they were gone as Hiccup lost his footing, Dagur's arm wrapping around his chest to hold him up. Agony burned through his back as he was pressed against him. 

Anguish numbed the rest of his senses, left him floating in a sea of torment. Then that began to vanish as well, fading into a buzzing feeling.

Right before he could lose consciousness, Dagur let go of him. Hiccup was pulled back from the brink, shuddering and gasping, trying to stand upright.

“This is your fault, Hiccup.”

Hiccup didn't bother trying to protest against his father’s words. Even if he could, why would he? He was right. This was his fault. If he hadn't tried escaping, he wouldn't be suffering like this.

Dagur dug his fingers into his back and Hiccup forgot how to breathe. Then he was holding his hip with one hand, the other leaving him for the time being.

“Gods, your blood is absolutely everywhere.” The way Dagur breathed the words into his ear made his skin crawl. It was even worse when he moaned, and a shiver crawled up his spine. “It's amazing, Hiccup. I think it's a good substitute for oil. What about you?”

Hiccup shook his head, feeling sick. The knowledge that Dagur was using his blood in such a way disturbed him deeply.

“Ah, why am I asking? It doesn't matter what you think.” 

Hiccup tensed as he felt the head of Dagur's cock press against his rim. It slid into him rather easily, slick with his own blood. He gave a cry at the feeling, and Dagur groaned into his ear.

“I can't believe you wanted to take this away from me.” Dagur now had ahold of his hips with two hands, and he dug his fingers in. He gave a small thrust and Hiccup yelped as he painfully hit his prostate. He’d definitely caused injury there. “I’ve never fucked anything as perfect as you before.”

Words taken from him, Hiccup screamed in response. All this did was make Dagur laugh and hold onto him harder.

There was nothing gentle about the way Dagur used his body. His thrusts were ferocious and brutal, his teeth digging into his shoulder and his neck and his ears. When he wasn't biting him he was yelling and moaning. Hiccup could do nothing but withdraw into himself and hope the words wouldn't hurt him there. Though, there was nowhere to hide from the physical pain.

“Stupid! You're so stupid to think you could get away from me! You're mine! All of you is mine! Every _inch_ of you belongs to me! Say it! I want to hear you say it!”

“Ca… T-talk…”

“Say it!” 

“Yours…” Hiccup managed to moan out.

“Do better than that,” Dagur growled in his ear.

“Can't!” Hiccup wailed. He couldn't explain to Dagur that speaking was almost impossible.

“Why not?” he asked unhappily, hips still working at a vicious pace.

“Dru… drug…” Hiccup answered. He arched away from him, but it didn't do much, as Dagur held his bottom half in place.

“Well then, you’ll have to tell me later.”

Hiccup squirmed and shouted as Dagur hammered his bruised prostate. The pain was deep and seemingly unending. It grew worse as Dagur held himself there, cock twitching inside him as he came. He moaned loudly before digging his teeth into his shoulder.

Finally, Dagur released him, panting. “Fuck, that was good.” Hiccup expected him to pull away, but he remained inside of him. “Now to get you to cum.”

Hiccup didn't want to, didn't think he could with how much pain he was in. One of Dagur's hands went between his legs and began massaging his balls, the other stroking up his body till he was rubbing at his left nipple. His fingers were wet with his blood.

“How many times can a person cum before it becomes torture, do you think?” Dagur asked.

“N-no.” Hiccup wanted Dagur to be done with him after this, wanted nothing more than to be left alone.

“No? But it’ll be fun! We can find out!” There was actual amusement in his voice along with the malice. “How about this? If it gets too much for you, just say ‘Night Fury’ and I’ll stop.”

Fresh tears welled in Hiccup’s eyes. There was no way he’d be able to say that. That was the reason Dagur had picked it. Though, he still felt determined to try.

“Ni… Ni…” He couldn't get farther than that, his mouth refusing to work for him. He was at Dagur's mercy, and Dagur had none to give.


	54. Chapter 53

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh, this chapter turned out to be more painful than I originally planned. Sorry, guys.
> 
> Also, I just want to let you know how much your comments mean to me. Every good comment just makes my day. Thank you so much! :)

Bryn was woken by a distant, familiar scream. For a few moments she lay still, thinking that perhaps she’d been dreaming, that she actually hadn’t heard anything. Then it came again, louder than before.

_Hiccup?!_

Dread fell like a stone into her stomach. He hadn’t gotten away.

She wanted to get up and go to him, but she couldn’t, not when the chief was still with him. That was proven by another scream that made her flinch. She wished for that to be the last one, but there was no pause as there had been before. Hiccup just kept screaming, his voice rife with agony.

Bryn closed her eyes and put her hands to her ears. She was glad that it was still dark, that she didn’t have to get up and attend to her duties while acting like everything was normal. She cried silently, not wanting to wake anyone around her. Her hands worked to block out most of the noise.

After some time, it seemed to be over. She tentatively lowered her hands, growing relieved when she heard nothing out of the ordinary.

Her relief was shattered by another scream that wrenched at her heart. Her hands flew back to her ears, and she muffled a sob by biting at her pillow.

Though, somehow, after a while like that, she managed to drift back into sleep. It wasn’t a relaxed sleep, but it was sleep nonetheless.

 

The tray rattled a little in her hands as Bryn made her way to the chief’s tent. She thought she’d never have to bring Hiccup food here again, had been hopeful for his escape. It made her heart sink, and she was fearful of seeing what state he’d been left in. She was also nervous as to whether or not the chief knew that she’d distracted the guards so that he could get away.

 _You wouldn’t still be alive if he knew that_ , she told herself to try to relax a little.

“Really?” one of the guards asked as she approached. “Dagur’s having him fed?”

“You can’t really feed a dead guy,” the other said. Bryn grimaced at the amusement in his voice. “You should have seen Dagur when he came out of there. Absolutely covered in blood.”

Her stomach clenched. “Let me by please,” she said quietly.

“I don’t think you want to go in there, girl,” the first guard that had spoken told her. “Took a peek in there myself and it was _not_ good.”

“Let me by please,” she repeated, keeping her head lowered. Her fear grew at what these men were saying, and she had to see Hiccup, no matter how bad it was.

“Suit yourself.” The guards moved aside and let her pass.

A sharp scent hit her nose when she entered the tent. Blood. She didn’t lift her head till she’d put the tray down on the table next to a lantern, the only source of light.

A gasp left her when she saw him. Hiccup hung limply from one of the beams by his wrists, hair covering his face. From here he looked… dead.

Bryn tentatively went over to him. There were streaks of blood over the front of his body, like the chief had painted him with it. A leather collar was fastened around his neck, the chain back on his ankle. She tried not to look between his legs, but it was difficult with him naked like that, and her eyes were drawn by the color. She’d never really seen a man’s genitals before, but she figured they weren’t supposed to be purple and black like that. Blood stained him there as well.

Wondering where all the blood had come from, she went around to his back. Her stomach churned when she looked at it and bile rose in her throat. There were so many gashes on him it was hard to tell one from another, and he was covered in red down to his foot and his prosthetic. She turned her head away, put her hand over her mouth.

_Good gods. No wonder he was screaming so loudly._

Bryn came back around to his front, reached up and moved his hair from his face. There was a scarlet handprint on each bruised cheek, and his lips were bruised and swollen, the bottom one cut.

“Hiccup?” She called his name gently.

_Oh Thor, what if he’s dead?_

Bryn stuck her finger under his nose, relief filling her when air brushed over it. He was breathing.

“Hiccup? It’s Bryn. Could you wake up, please?” If he couldn’t eat she at least wanted to make sure he got some water. It wouldn’t help much with the state he was in, but it would be better than nothing.

“Hiccup?” She reached out and gently touched his face. Hiccup suddenly groaned and she drew back, afraid that she’d hurt him.

“Hiccup, it’s just me,” she said softly. “I have water for you.”

He moaned, opened his eyes though it seemed like a struggle. They were red rimmed and bloodshot. It took a while for his gaze to actually land on her and stay there. Something was wrong.

“Did Da- the chief drug you again?” Bryn asked. She’d nearly said his name, but reminded herself that it wasn’t her place to do so.

Hiccup opened his mouth, but then closed it again, nodded tiredly instead.

“Hiccup, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry he did this to you.” A sob ached in her throat and she swallowed it back, wiped the tears from her eyes. “I’d hoped you’d get away. I…” She trailed off when he just lowered his head. Clearly he didn’t want her to talk about this. “Let me get that water for you.”

She came back with the cup and lifted it to his lips. He drank slowly, eyes closed as if he was savoring it. She only pulled it away once it was empty.

“Do you want to eat?” Bryn asked.

Hiccup shook his head. After a moment or two he shook his head again, a sob climbing up his throat. Bryn furrowed her brow, confused.

“Hiccup, what is it?” She felt bad after asking it, knowing that he probably couldn't answer.

He shook his head again, tears running over the dried blood on his face. “D-dad… ssstop…” He sobbed again, louder than before. “ _No_.”

Bryn felt her heart break. “Hiccup, your dad's not here,” she said softly, fighting back tears. It was evident he was hallucinating him and that whatever he heard was upsetting him. “It's not real.”

Hiccup shook his head, and Bryn didn't know if it was in response to her or the hallucination. She reached out her free hand and gently touched his tear-stained cheek.

“Hiccup, whatever your father is saying to you, whatever you hear…” She paused and drew in a breath, throat aching- “It’s not real. He's not here. Only I am. Me. Bryn.”

“ _No-o!_ ” Hiccup was shaking, and Bryn just wanted to hug him and make everything okay, but that would hurt him.

“Hiccup, please look at me.”

Hiccup didn't open his eyes, didn't respond in any way.

“Hiccup, look at me.” She stroked his face in what she hoped was a comforting gesture. “Don't listen to whatever it is your dad’s saying. He's not here. Just look at me, please.”

Hiccup’s eyes finally opened and landed on her. His lip trembled.

“H-hates… me…” he forced out.

“Your dad doesn't hate you,” Bryn told him. There was a very real pain in her chest. “What you’re hearing isn't real.”

Hiccup pulled his head away from her touch, shook it again. “R… R… Real…”

“It's not. The chief drugged you, remember? It's a hallucination.”

A bit of clarity broke through the haze in Hiccup’s eyes. He sniffled and nodded. Bryn hoped he wouldn't notice how she had to wipe a few tears from her eyes.

“I wish there was something more I could do for you,” she said. She couldn't stand seeing him restrained and vulnerable like this.

“S’okay,” Hiccup croaked out. He closed his eyes and shook his head a little, then looked back at her. “Dagur… will come… back. You… go.”

“Are you sure?” Bryn didn't want to leave him here, though there was nothing she could do for him. She felt utterly useless.

Hiccup nodded, but Bryn could see the fear in his eyes, just how frightened he was of the chief’s return.

“I’ll be back,” she told him. She touched his face again and he leaned into it. “Promise.”

Bryn reluctantly withdrew her hand. Fresh tears welled in Hiccup’s eyes at the loss of contact. She just stood there, not moving to leave, not wanting to.

“Go.”

“Be strong, Hiccup,” she said quietly. Then she took the tray and quickly left, not stopping to glance back at him. Had she done that, she would have lost the composure she’d been pretending to have.

 

Dagur grinned when he entered the tent. Hiccup was still there. Though he’d tied him up, he had the rather irrational fear that he’d leave again, that he'd escape.

He was still covered in Hiccup’s blood. He hadn't done much when he'd left, just gone on a walk to clear his head as much as he could. His anger was beginning to diminish, especially since he’d taken it out on the person who had caused it. Though, it was still there.

“Hey, Hiccup, how’ve ya been?” Dagur asked rather casually as he approached him. He ran his fingers along his hip and Hiccup moaned in distress. It was a lovely sound.

Dagur became aroused just from looking at him like this, tied up and vulnerable and bloodied. The collar looked especially good on him.

“You want me to untie you?” he asked, coming around to his front and touching him with both hands now.

Hiccup nodded.

Dagur leaned close, kissed at his ear. “How about I fuck you first?”

“No…”

“Why not? Still recovering from all those orgasms I gave you?” Dagur shuddered a little at the memory, arousal spiking. Hiccup had become so sensitive that at one point all he’d had to do to make him cum was rub his fingers over his hole. He’d screamed nice and loud too.

“Don't…”

“But I want to.” Dagur went around to his back, surveying the bloody mess he’d made of it. He reached out and gently touched the wounds. Hiccup gave a cry and arched away from him. Liking his reaction, Dagur touched his back again, smiled at the sound he made. He felt such twisted satisfaction from this. “Oh yeah, I definitely want to.”

He dug his nails into one of the open wounds to restart the flow of blood, and Hiccup shrieked and thrashed. Dagur laughed loudly. He couldn't help himself.

Hiccup wasn't that difficult to prep, given that his hole had been used rather generously in the past few hours. Dagur had even fisted him at one point, and the way Hiccup had yelled from it had been glorious.

“Oh gods,” Dagur panted as he entered him. It didn't matter how many times he’d done this. Those first few seconds inside Hiccup were always amazing, like some need he’d had all his life was finally being satisfied. “Hiccup, you feel so, so good.”

Hiccup moaned in response, then kept moaning as Dagur began rocking his hips. He doubted he was getting much pleasure out of it with his prostate most likely bruised, but that was fine. He still wanted him to hurt.

Dagur moved slowly, reveling in the warmth around him. It was added to by the blood that he’d coated his cock with beforehand. He looked up to watch how Hiccup’s left hand, clenched into a fist, would tighten with each of his strokes. His right hand, bound to the left at the wrist, hung uselessly, and every once in a while the fingers would twitch, clearly wanting to make that one into a fist too.

At first Dagur hadn't really liked having to tie him up before fucking him, but now, having had to do it so often, he loved it. It gave him so much more power. He could do anything and Hiccup couldn't stop him or escape. It was especially fun when he would tug on his restraints. He wasn't doing it now though, so Dagur picked up his pace. Hiccup cried out, then began tugging on the rope. There. That's exactly what he’d wanted.

Hiccup tried to move away from him, so Dagur tightened his hold on his hips, adding to the bruising there. He nipped at his ear and moaned out his pleasure.

“I’ve always wanted to fuck you standing up,” he growled out. “There are a lot of ways I want to fuck you. Against a wall, for one. That would be fun. And I’ve always fantasized about you sucking me off while I'm on my throne. _Ohh_ , that's a good one. You’d ride me on my throne too.” Dagur closed his eyes, imagining what that would be like. Hiccup’s voice would echo around the hall. And just the fact that it would be on his throne… It was too good to be true, too perfect, but it would happen someday. And Hiccup would call him chief and tell him he was his, tell him that he loved him and actually mean it.

Dagur's anger suddenly returned. Hiccup didn't love him. He’d lied to him. He shouted wordlessly, his thrusts growing more ferocious. Hiccup squirmed uselessly in his grip, screaming in what could only be pain. Dagur loved it.

“I hate you!” Dagur yelled. “You lied to me! You lied!” He had the urge to cry again, so he did. No one had ever hurt him like this before. He felt ruined, and the only way to fix it was by hurting Hiccup.

He bowed his head into his shoulder, cried against his skin as he continued thrusting into him. To think he’d almost lost this, almost lost _him_ …

“I-I love you,” he breathed against his skin. He sobbed, kissed at his shoulder, his pace slowing. Hiccup’s cries died down into soft moans. “I love you. And I w-wish you’d love me back. N-no one ever loves me back. Everyone h-hates me. I just want someone to l-love me back, Hiccup.”

“Doing… i-it wrong,” Hiccup got out. The words sounded funny in his mouth. “You’d… hate me… if I did… did this… to… you.” That was the longest thing he’d said since the drug had taken effect. It was obviously difficult for him to talk.

Dagur wasn't sure how to respond to that. He'd never thought about what it would be like if their roles were reversed. It was so improbable that it wasn't worth thinking about. He laughed at the notion, tears still flowing. His emotions were more of a mess than usual, whirling around inside him and colliding, splintering to pieces that just kept moving. Instead of focusing on those, he focused on Hiccup, on how good this felt. He yelled out a curse when he came, driving himself deep. Hiccup wailed.

“Oh yeah, did that hurt?” Dagur gasped out once it was over.

Hiccup nodded.

“Awesome. It was supposed to. I want to hurt you like you hurt me. And you know what’s going to hurt even more?”

“W-what?” Hiccup asked, clearly frightened. He was trembling under his hands.

“You need a bath.”

 

Hiccup fell the instant Dagur cut him loose, having lost the strength to hold himself up hours ago. He caught him, one arm under his back, and that hurt abominably. Hiccup just gasped at the pain. He wanted to struggle, but his limbs felt like dead weight.

“There you go, Hiccup. I’m gonna set you down for a bit.”

 _Not on my back, please._ He tried to speak, to move his mouth and make his voice come out, to let his thoughts be known, but all he could muster was a weak: “No.”

Dagur rested him on the ground, and the contact with his wounds burned. Hiccup cried out, tried to reach out and grab him, but his arm moved too slowly, and he lowered it back down. He would just have to try to adjust to this torment.

“Gotta take this off.” Hiccup felt one of Dagur’s hands on his left leg, the other no doubt on his prosthetic. He wanted to cry, but he had no tears left. “You’re not getting this back for a while. Can’t trust you walking around.”

Hiccup groaned in response. He shifted his leg a little, a futile attempt to free himself from Dagur’s grasp, but he just held onto him harder. Then the prosthetic was gone, and he was hopeless.

Dagur let go of him and, sensing little danger at the moment, Hiccup let himself doze. He was beyond tired, so tired it felt like his bones ached.

_Astrid came to him, standing over him and looking down at him with disdain._

_“You know, Hiccup, I thought I loved you, but you’re worthless now.” Her words dripped with contempt. “What’s the point of you if you can’t be chief? What’s the point of you at all except to be used for another man’s pleasure?”_

_“Astrid, I’m sorry! I didn’t want this to happen! I don’t want this! Please! Help me!” He tried to move from the ground, but he was paralyzed. She was so close. He just wanted to reach out and touch her, hold onto her and never let go. She could save him if she wanted to._

_“You’re nothing, Hiccup. Nothing to me, nothing to everyone save for Dagur and Viggo.”_

_“I’m sorry.”_

_“You let Viggo have you. You didn’t even fight.”_

_“Th-there was no point.”_

_“And then you gave him the information he wanted, and now we’re all going to die.”_

_“Astrid, I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! I just wanted it to stop! Please!”_

_“You should have just let him do it, Hiccup,” Astrid snarled. “Just like you let Dagur do it.”_

_“I-I don’t… I wanted it to stop. I want it all to stop! What am I supposed to do, Astrid?!” Tears rolled down Hiccup’s cheeks in hot trails. “I-I can’t fight him all the time. It’s… I can’t. I can’t, I can’t! It’s too much!”_

_“Well you should fight him, but instead you give in and suck and ride his cock like a whore.”_

_“I have to. I have to. You don’t understand. I-it was to make him trust me, so I c-could get away.”_

_“But you didn’t get away.”_

_“I know that!” Hiccup shrieked, beginning to feel angry. How could Astrid do this to him, stand there and act as if she was better? But then again, she was, wasn’t she? She was her own person - he wasn’t._

_“Maybe you shouldn’t have even bothered trying. It was hopeless from the beginning. You knew that.”_

_“Shut up, Astrid!”_

_“But you did it anyway. Why?”_

_“B-because I have to get away! I have to! I can’t be stuck like this for the rest of my life!”_

_“But the rest of us don’t want you. What’s the point?”_

_“Shut up!”_

_“What’s the point, Hiccup?”_

_“I don’t… Just stop it!”_

_“Tell me. What’s the point?” She stressed each word, leaning over him with her hands on her hips._

_“F-free,” he uttered quietly. “I want to be free.”_

_Astrid knelt next to him, and hope fluttered in his chest. That was, until she laid her palm over his brand. “You can't be free.” Her words were suddenly soft, free of malice. “Not with this. You know that.”_

_“I can get rid of it.”_

_“But not all of it. It goes too deep.”_

_Hiccup closed his eyes, didn't have it in him to look at her anymore. “I know,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.” He didn't really even know what he was apologizing for at this point. Just… everything._

_Astrid bent over him, so close he could smell her._

She smelled like Dagur.

Dagur and blood.

 _His_ blood.

Arms went under him, the touch racking his body with agony. He arched, gave a cry. His left hand found clumsy purchase on something - fabric, he figured.

He was being moved, and then hot water lapped at his wounds. He screamed, tried to tell his legs to kick, but the signal wasn't making it to them. He lost his grip, became submerged save for his head. His breaths came in quick, heavy pants as pain coursed violently through his body.

Hiccup’s head was suddenly grabbed and shoved under. He held his breath, though part of him just wanted to inhale the water and end it all.

Dagur pulled his head back up, began roughly scrubbing soap into his hair. His nails scratched and stung against his scalp. Hiccup wanted to pull his head away, but decided against it. What was the point in struggling at the moment? He just hurt so much.

Dagur cleaned him thoroughly. He had to hold him down while washing his abused nether regions. Hiccup had screamed and struggled to the best of his ability. His back was worse though. He’d fought him into a sitting position, and Hiccup could do nothing but yell out his torment as he washed over the slashes in his flesh. He wanted so badly to lose consciousness, for the pain to take him away from the waking world.

He stared at the water when Dagur let go of him to go get a towel. It was a dull red. And as he watched, eddies of darker red formed, swirled around him. He shook his head a little and the hallucination cleared. It was soon replaced by another though: Astrid’s voice in his ear.

_“I don’t want you. No one wants you.”_

_Stop it. Shut up._

_“You’re worthless.”_

_Stop._

_“_ Nothing. _”_

“Sh-shut up.”

Dagur had come back over with the towel. He cocked his head at him in confusion. “What? I didn’t even say anything.”

“Not… you.”

_“It would be better if you died.”_

“Then who?”

Hiccup put his hands to his ears, overwhelmed. He just shook his head, not sure how to respond to any of it. More voices joined in, his dad, his friends.

_“You’re not my son.”_

_Not real. Not real._

_“What’s the point of you?”_

_“You’re disgusting.”_

Dagur grabbed at his wrists, trying to pull his hands from his ears.

_“You’ll never be chief. You’re not good enough for it.”_

_“You’re hardly even human.”_

_“You should just kill yourself.”_

It was too much. Hiccup screamed, kept screaming, and it silenced the voices in his head. Dagur had ahold of him now, was lifting him out of the tub. Hiccup tried to hit him in the face, but his movement was slow and clumsy and he missed.

“Hiccup, stop it! Calm down!”

“Let-go… of me!”

“Fine!” Dagur very suddenly released him, dropping him painfully on the ground. Hiccup landed on his back and momentarily forgot how to breathe. He rolled onto his side, let out a moan when he got his breath back. He flinched as Dagur began to dry him off. He wanted to tell him he could do that himself, but he couldn’t.

“You didn’t hear voices the last time I gave you nutmeg, did you?” he asked, a note of irritation in his voice.

“Nut… meg?”

“Yeah. Pretty crazy, right? Give someone enough of it and it works like a drug.” Dagur patted the towel at his back and Hiccup let out a strangled yelp. “But did you hear voices last time?”

“N-no.”

“Huh, guess I gave you more than I thought.” Dagur laughed, and it made Hiccup want to hit him. All he could do was ball his left hand uselessly into a fist. The fingers of his right hand throbbed.

“But you know what? That’s fine. Totally fine. You can’t move much, so I can do whatever I want with you.”

“You… do wha-whatever you want… anyway…”

“True, true. Now lay on your back so I can dry your front.”

“No.”

Dagur yanked on his shoulder to roll him over, and Hiccup arched and gasped at the pain.

“Hiccup, you’re really not in any position to be defying me.”

Hiccup knew Dagur was right, but when had that ever stopped him? He was wondering where the spark of defiance had come from though. Maybe it was from the voices, because what they’d said had all been true, and he didn’t want it to be. He didn’t want to be less than human. He didn’t want to be useless save for as a sex slave. He didn’t want to be Dagur’s whore. He didn’t want to be…

Hiccup.

Something inside him snapped with a pain that made him want to die, even as he was filled with clarity. He didn’t want himself anymore. He didn’t want to _be_ himself. Being Hiccup just meant he would suffer. If he could just be someone else, leave this body and enter a new one…

He realized his thoughts were crazy and probably drug-induced, but that didn’t stop him from wondering what it would be like to not be himself. To not be Hiccup Haddock, Hiccup the Former Dragon Rider, Hiccup the Disappointment of a Son, Hiccup the Shameful, Hiccup the _Whore_.

To not be Hiccup.

To not be anything at all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art done by me.


	55. Chapter 54

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally finished this! I'm sorry, guys! College has just been busy and I've been struggling with both my physical and mental health. My motivation had pretty much been sapped. I'm very happy to have this out and hopefully chapter 55 will come quicker.

Thorn paused when he entered the cell, looked at Falki with disdain. The young man was pale and thin, unchained, miserably sitting in a corner. The smell coming off of him was horrible, but thankfully Thorn wouldn’t have to deal with it for long.

“Thorn?” Falki straightened, looking relieved to see him. “Oh thank the gods. They’ve been starving me to try to get me to talk. Do you have food for me?”

“Have you told Heather anything?” Thorn questioned. “Or Astrid? Anybody?”

Falki shook his head. “Nothing. I’ve stayed quiet.”

“Nothing at all?”

Falki broke eye contact, working his jaw. “Um, I only said that I report to a few people.”

“Agh, dammit, Falki!” Thorn yanked at his hair in frustration. “You should have told them you were working alone!”

“They wouldn’t have believed me,” he said, looking back to him. “But I didn’t say anything else. I promise. And I _won’t_ say anything else.”

“I know. You’ll die first.”

“You’re going to just let me die?”

Thorn moved closer so that he was standing over him, which trapped Falki in the corner. Falki struggled to his feet, a hand on the wall to keep himself up. His eyes had gone wide with desperation and fear.

“Oh, I’m not going to _let_ you die.” Thorn made sure to move quickly, drawing his knife in a split second and then raising it to slice. Falki was fast too though, and younger than him. He knocked Thorn into the wall as he raised his arm, making for the door, which had been left unlocked. Thorn lunged at him, knocked him down. Before Falki could get out from under him, he stabbed him in the back. The man made a choking sound, and Thorn stabbed him again. Then one more time, just for good measure. Falki went limp underneath him - dead.

Thorn stood, then bent and wiped his knife on the back of Falki’s shirt. It wasn’t as neat of a murder as he was used to, but it would do. He sheathed the knife and looked himself over. He’d worn black so that if any blood got on him it wouldn't stand out so much. He noticed a few darker spots on his tunic. He’d have to get rid of it. Hopefully no one would take the time to look him over on his way back to his chambers.

He left the cell, and the guard standing at the end of the hallway straightened, looking nervous. Thorn approached her.

“Is Falki dead?” she asked. She drew her sword, then tossed it down beside her.

Thorn nodded. “He won’t be able to tell them anything now. Are you ready, Helga? I promise I won’t hit you too hard.”

Helga looked down at the floor for a moment. She seemed uncertain. “Doesn’t this all seem a little extreme?”

“What?”

“I mean, Dagur hasn’t been home in three years.”

“But he’s still chief,” Thorn said. “The _only_ chief. Heather had no right to come in and take his place.”

“You’re… you’re right.” Helga nodded a little, lifted her head. “I guess I’m just a little uncomfortable doing this without orders.”

“For now you’re orders come from me,” Thorn told her. “And I’ll make sure to send a note to Dagur once I’m finished here.”

“Okay.” Helga turned the right side of her face towards him and tapped her cheek. “Here should do.”

“Remember to act unconscious till Heather and Astrid show up for their daily questioning.”

“And when they ask me what happened I’ll tell them that I didn’t see my attacker’s face and that I was overpowered.”

“Good.” Satisfied with the plan, Thorn curled his hand into a fist and drew his arm back.

 

“You think he’ll say anything today?” Astrid asked from beside Heather as they made their way to the dungeon.

Heather shrugged. “Hopefully he’ll be hungry enough after a week with no food.” They descended the stairs to a torch-lit hallway made of old, gray stone. Heather tripped over something at the bottom of them, nearly fell, but Astrid grabbed her by the shoulders and steadied her.

“What the-” She didn’t finish the exclamation, looking down to find a guard laying in a heap on the floor, her sword discarded near her. “Oh my gods.” She crouched down by the woman, who groaned a little, seeming to be regaining consciousness. Astrid crouched beside her, put a hand on the woman’s shoulder.

“Hey,” Astrid said softly. “Hey, are you alright? What happened?”

The guard pushed herself up onto one arm, looked between Heather and Astrid. Her right cheek was swollen and bruised.

“H-he attacked me,” she got out weakly. Astrid helped the woman into a sitting position, and she lowered her head, put her hand to the back of it in obvious pain.

“Who did?” Heather asked.

“I don’t know. Didn’t see his face.”

Heather’s eyes went wide. “Astrid, go check on Falki. Quick.”

“Here, take my keys.” The guard reached for her belt, but there was nothing there for her to grab onto. The keys were gone.

_Shit, he must have been broken out._

Astrid stood, jogged down the hall to Falki’s cell. Heather watched as she opened the door, which had been left unlocked. She peeked into the cell.

“Heather!”

“What? Is he gone?” Heather stood and went to join her at the door of the cell. She looked inside, and was left feeling like someone had punched her in the chest. 

Falki lay facedown on the floor with blood all over his back. There were clear stab wounds there.

“He’s dead,” Astrid said hoarsely.

“No, he could still be alive.” Heather hurried over to him, stuck her fingers around to his neck, held them at his pulse point. She waited for a few moments, hoping to feel blood rushing under her fingers, his heart beating. There was nothing. His skin had already gone cold.

Heather drew her hand away. “He’s been dead for a while, I think,” she said in defeat. She looked over the body, suddenly feeling very tired and very hopeless. Falki had had information that would have led them to Dagur and Hiccup, and now he’d been silenced. Someone else working for Dagur must have done it. She was probably next.

She slowly stood, wiping her hands on her pants. She looked down to the slight bulge in her abdomen. She _and_ her baby were probably next.

“Who do I trust, Astrid? Who can I trust not to kill me?”

Heather was scared, overwhelmed. She’d be stupid if she wasn’t. She was ruling over a land she could barely remember surrounded by people she hardly knew, and now someone was dead, killed by someone in the castle, by one of the people that was supposedly on her side. How many more of them were there? How many actually worked for Dagur and wanted to see her fall?

She felt Astrid’s hand on her shoulder. “You’ve got me.”

“They’ll be after you too, Astrid.”

“We’ve both got axes and years of fighting experience. I’d like to see them try to get rid of us.”

“Now we just have to find out who _they_ are.” Heather looked back towards the door. Maybe that guard could be helpful.

The guard was still sitting on the floor when they went back over to her, looking distressed.

“Is he gone?” she asked. “Did someone break him out?”

“He’s dead,” Heather answered. She crouched down by her again. “So tell me about your attacker, anything you can think of: his height, his eye color, anything.”

“I don’t know, my lady. It happened fast. I had barely had my sword drawn when he knocked me out.”

“Height?” Heather pressed. 

The guard once again put a hand to her head. “Taller than me, that’s for sure, but I don’t know anything exact. I’m sorry, my lady.”

“And you’re sure this was a man who attacked you?”

“Positive.”

“Can you remember what he was wearing?”

“Only that he was dressed in black.”

Heather gritted her teeth in frustration. This information wasn’t very useful. The only way it narrowed down the list of people was that she wasn’t looking for a woman.

_But how do I know this woman isn’t in on it too?_

_No, stop it. Now you’re just being paranoid._

Though, Heather was thinking that maybe she had the right to be paranoid. She didn’t know who was working for or against her. For all she knew she could be absolutely surrounded by enemies.

_Not Hilda though. Hilda seemed eager to appoint me as chief._

Heather stood, offered the woman her hand. “Astrid and I will help you to a doctor.”

The woman gave her a small smile as she took her hand. “Thank you, my lady. That’s very kind of you.”

Astrid walked behind Heather as they left the dungeon, which she was thankful for. Astrid was the only one that she was absolutely certain wouldn’t stab her between her shoulder blades.

 

Viggo rolled his eyes in irritation at the pounding knock on his door, but still, he decided he’d allow entrance.

“Come in, Ryker.”

The door opened to reveal his brother, who was looking a little stunned.

“How did you know it was me?” he asked.

“Because you’re the only person I know who knocks on a door like they’re trying to break it down,” Viggo answered, letting his annoyance into his voice. “What is it? It’s late.”

“Oh, because I obviously disturbed you from sleeping,” Ryker said sarcastically, closing the door and coming over to sit in the chair across from him uninvited. “I just want to check on you.”

Viggo raised an eyebrow and straightened in his chair. “Check on me?” Was his brother actually feeling concern for him?

 _I guess a dog does learn to care for its master_ , he reasoned.

“I mean, I know you like to keep to yourself, but you’ve been quiet even for you since you met with Dagur. What happened?”

Viggo bristled at the mention of Dagur. He really didn’t like the man, and his recent talk with him had just solidified that. 

“He turned down a spectacular offer like the idiot he is.” He pushed his chair back, going over to a smaller table in the room that held a pitcher of spiced wine. It had probably grown cold a while ago, but he didn’t care at the moment.

“You made him an offer? In exchange for what?”

“Hiccup,” Viggo answered as he poured himself a cup, deciding that there would be nothing wrong with telling his brother part of what he wanted. He turned to Ryker, leaned back on the table.

“Why’d you even bother? I told you Dagur was obsessed with him. He was all he talked about more than half the time.” Ryker grunted in amusement. “Probably talked about him in his sleep too.”

“He’s useful,” Viggo said. “He has information.”

“Which is why we’re going to be attacking Dragon’s Edge, isn’t it?”

Viggo took a sip, nodded. The wine had gone cold, the spices turning bitter, but he swallowed it down and took another sip anyway. “And with his plans,” he said after swallowing.

“How’d you manage to get that from him? He seems like a defiant little shit if you ask me.”

Viggo smirked, remembering the afternoon he’d spent with Hiccup. “I have my ways.”

“How?” Ryker seemed baffled. “You said Dagur owns him now. How’d you get anything out of him if you couldn’t even touch him?”

Viggo had to hold in a laugh. _Oh, I touched him alright._

“Really, brother? You think Dagur _knew_ that I went to see his precious slave?” He took another sip of the wine, made a face at it, then put it down on the table, deciding it wasn’t worth it. “And besides, I didn’t do anything that would leave marks on him.”

Ryker lowered his forehead into his hand, seeming to put two and two together. “Odin’s beard, Viggo, do you _want_ Dagur to kill you?”

“He won’t kill me.” He stepped away from the table, went back to his desk to sit. 

“Really? ’Cause I’m pretty sure he’ll kill you for fucking his sex slave.” He lifted his head. “That _is_ what you did, isn’t it?”

Viggo just smirked in answer. Better to leave Ryker to assume and wonder. “Hiccup won’t tell him. He’ll never know.”

“You’re so sure about that? Hiccup doesn’t like you. He probably just let you do it so that he can tell Dagur and get rid of you.”

Viggo worked his jaw a little. He hadn’t thought of that. Hiccup _was_ clever, but: “I wouldn’t be here right now if that were the case. If he just wanted to get rid of me he would have told Dagur right away. He evidently didn’t.”

“And how do you know that he won’t tell him at all?”

“Hiccup’s changed quite a bit since you last saw him,” Viggo said. Then he laughed a little. “He’s practically buried in shame already. Telling Dagur what I did would only add to it. I made sure that he’d feel that way. I can be quite persuasive.”  
Ryker was quiet for a moment. Then: “Do you think Dagur’s broken him?”

Viggo shrugged. “He didn’t really seem it, but who knows? A lot can happen in a week. And if he’s not broken now he will be soon.” He looked down at the papers spread out on his desk, on the map he’d started drawing of Dragon’s Edge so that he’d be able to flesh out Hiccup’s plan and visualize it better. “Now if you have nothing else to ask about, go.” Viggo didn’t look up at Ryker, just waved his hand at him dismissively. “I have things to do.”

“You mean fantasizing about screwing Hiccup again?” There was amusement in Ryker’s voice.

Viggo looked up, scowled at him. “How many times do I have to tell you that you’re not funny and that every time you try it makes me want to strangle you?”

Ryker laughed at his irritation as he stood. “As many times as I keep doing it. You’re fun to piss off. At least that gets _some_ sort of emotion from you.”

“If you don’t leave now, I’m demoting you.” Viggo meant it, and that slapped the amusement off of Ryker’s face. His features became serious and he nodded.

“Right, sorry. I’ll go.”

Viggo glared at him the whole way out the door, and once he was gone he looked back to his papers. Maybe after he had Dragon’s Edge he could go after Dagur, take Hiccup from him by force. It wouldn’t be uncalled for. Enemies often took things from one another as a victory prize. Hiccup could be his.

But first, Dragon’s Edge. Hiccup would sadly have to wait.


	56. Chapter 55

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So today's the birthday that I gave Dagur! October 23rd! How fitting that I'm posting on his birthday.

“Hiccup.”

He was awake, but he didn’t respond, didn’t want to. Why should he respond to the name if he didn’t want it anymore, and especially since it was coming from Dagur’s lips?

“Hiccup, come on. You’ve been asleep for a whole day.” This time the words were accompanied with a nudge in the arm. He had to try hard to suppress an irritated groan. He wanted Dagur to leave him alone. He didn’t care if he’d been asleep that long. It wasn’t long enough. He hurt everywhere and just wished that he could sleep forever.

He took stock of himself as a way to ignore Dagur. The fingers of his right hand were bandaged again, and they ached and throbbed; he realized that he’d probably re-broken them when he’d punched him. His entire torso was wrapped in bandages, covering his back, which seared with pain with every breath. There was a deep-set pain in his lower back, like there was a bruise somewhere inside of him. His wrists stung from tugging on the ropes, and he wouldn’t be surprised if there were cuts on them. His cock hurt as well and it was uncomfortable being positioned on his stomach due to that, but he’d rather that than lay on his back. He was naked, but under the blankets for the time being, so he wasn’t cold. The collar was still on his neck. It felt like it was strangling him.

“Hiccup, come on. You’ve gotta be awake.” 

He didn’t say anything, didn’t move, but then Dagur was yanking the blankets off of him, and he gave a surprised yelp at the cold air, rolling onto his side and sluggishly reaching out for them.

“Ha! Knew you were awake!”

He opened his eyes to glare at him. It was dark in the tent save for the brazier burning nearby. He wondered what time it was. It could have been the afternoon for all he knew. It was nearing the time of year where the sun didn’t rise.

“I’m… cold.” His tongue felt thick and almost useless in his mouth. The drug was still in him. He wanted to cry, but held back any tears. 

Dagur apparently took that as an invitation to lay down next to him and wrap him in his arms. He tried kicking him, but the movement was too weak and slow to even be seen as that. His toes just rubbed against Dagur’s shin, chain rattling slightly. 

“Want me to keep you warm, babe?” Dagur grinned at him. One hand trailed down to grip at his ass.

“No. Thir...sty,” he managed to get out, voice hoarse. He wanted to ask Dagur for his robe back, but didn’t know how. Maybe after he had something to drink he could try.

“Kiss me first.”

“Wha?”

“Kiss me and I’ll give you something to drink.”

Anger burned like a ball of flame in his chest. Why couldn’t Dagur just give him a drink without demanding something from him? Why did he have to be so cruel?

He almost didn’t do it, but then decided that now wasn’t the time to be stubborn. If he wanted to recover, he needed a drink. 

Narrowing his eyes at him, he leaned his head forward and touched his lips to Dagur’s. Dagur growled in response, took ahold of the back of his head, and he opened his mouth to him, let him delve his tongue inside and claim what was already his. 

It didn’t last long though, and he was glad for it. Arousal had begun to prickle into his nerves from the contact, and he really didn’t want it. Dagur released him and stood. He came back over with a cup, and he realized that he’d have to sit up.

He pushed himself up, arms shaking a little with the effort, pain flashing through his back. He gritted his teeth and didn’t make a sound. Once sitting, he just looked expectantly at Dagur.

“Are you able to drink on your own?”

He shook his head, sure that he’d spill the cup if it was handed to him. Panic took him as Dagur put the cup to his lips, but he opened his mouth and drank anyway. It was thankfully just water. He wasn’t trying to drug him again.

Dagur went to go put the cup back on the table once he’d downed the whole thing. He shivered in the absence of his body heat. He reached out for the blankets, but his fingers didn’t want to clutch them to pull them over himself.

“Robe,” he said. Certainly Dagur would know what he meant by that.

Dagur came back over to him, ran a hand through his hair as if he were petting him. “Hm, it is too cold to take away your clothing privileges, isn’t it?”

_Oh, just give it back to me, please._

“How about this? You do a few things for me and I give it back. Sound good, Hiccup?”

He bristled a little at the use of his name, but didn’t say anything, couldn’t really even though he wanted to. What would he tell Dagur anyway? _‘Don’t call me that. Don’t call me my name,’_ seemed utterly ridiculous.

He nodded and Dagur smiled. Then he had his hands under his arms, was lifting him up and dragging him from the cot and onto the ground. 

“On your knees,” Dagur ordered, and he had no choice but to follow. “Open your mouth.”

He did so, closing his eyes. Though, they opened again when two of Dagur’s fingers entered his mouth and he heard him draw a knife with his other hand. The blade went to rest against his shoulder.

“Bite me and I cut you.” Dagur’s voice was low, a mix of lust and a warning. He didn’t doubt that he would cut him. The blade was cold on his skin. “Now suck.”

He did to the best of his ability, his tongue clumsy. Dagur didn’t seem to care though.

“Oh shit, that’s hot,” he commented. “Look at me, Hiccup.”

Once again, he did what he wanted, eyes opening and going upwards to meet his. He hated the way he was looking at him like he was starving. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Dagur was actually drooling.

“Mm, that’s it, baby.” Dagur’s fingers left his mouth, went to his belt, but the knife stayed against his shoulder. His stomach twisted with anger and disgust, but he didn’t move. He kept his mouth open, waiting for Dagur’s cock.

Once his length was freed from his pants, Dagur took him under the jaw, fingers wet with his own saliva, and tilted his head back. He opened his mouth wider, and his cock went smoothly past his lips. Dagur didn’t even have to tell him what to do. He roamed his tongue along the underside of his cock, right beneath the head where he knew he liked it. His actions were rewarded with a moan he didn’t want. Dagur’s fingers left his jaw, dug into his hair and tugged. He moaned again as he bobbed his head a little, eyes fluttering closed. He let his own close too.

“ _Hiccup…_ ” His name was heavy on his lips, and it drew tears from his eyes. That was his name, wasn’t it?

But he didn’t want it, and he certainly didn’t want to be who it was associated with. The one it was associated with was struggling not to choke as Dagur thrusted himself forward and into his throat.

But that was _him_. _He_ was the one pleasuring Dagur against his will. He was the one who’s name was moaned out with something akin to heartbreak. He was Hiccup and he was just going to have to deal with it.

“Hiccup, look at me again.”

Feeling himself crumble, Hiccup opened his eyes, looked at Dagur with tears brimming over.

“Why the fuck are you crying?” he asked harshly. He tugged on his hair again and Hiccup wanted to bite him for it, but the knife dug down a little, close to breaking skin, as if Dagur had read his mind. He probably had the ability to at this point.

Hiccup wondered why Dagur had even asked, as he was incapable of answering, and he wasn’t given a chance to. Then he realized that he didn’t want an answer and that he just wanted him to stop crying. So he did. He dammed up his tears and saved them for later.

Later turned out to be rather soon, when Dagur had him on his back with his hand around his abused, but erect member. He stroked him gently, but pain still mixed with his pleasure, and so Hiccup cried. He felt pathetic doing it.

“Stop.”

“Why?” Dagur breathed against his face. “It’s not all bad, is it? It feels good too, I bet.” His lips twitched into a knowing smirk, and then his tongue came out to lap at his tears. Hiccup shuddered against him in pleasure and revulsion, clenched his teeth over a moan, but ended up whimpering. Dagur laughed, and his hand left his cock, reached downwards. Hiccup flinched as fingers prodded at his hole.

“What? You don’t want me?” Dagur circled his fingers around his rim, and Hiccup managed to draw back from him, even as his body begged for him to move towards the touch. Dagur’s fingers just followed, pressed into him. It burned without any lubricant and Hiccup gasped. He reached for Dagur with his left hand. He wanted to claw out his eyes, but he settled for digging his nails into the wrist on the hand that was holding him down.

Dagur grunted, shoved his fingers farther into him. He touched his prostate and Hiccup’s world exploded into pain. He shouted, writhed underneath him in an attempt to get away, clamping his fingers down harder. His tears fell faster.

Then Dagur decided to stop torturing him and pulled his fingers away. Hiccup gasped for breath.

“H-hurts.”

“Does this hurt?” Dagur then pressed on his perineum, and Hiccup gave a cry, hurriedly nodded. Dagur drew his fingers away, settled for stroking them over his left thigh. He looked disappointed.

“Guess it would be a bad idea to fuck you then.”

“N-no shit… What gave you… th-that idea?” Hiccup was proud of himself for getting the words out.

“Don’t sass me, Hiccup.” Dagur was shifting positions, straddling his right thigh. Hiccup wondered what he planned on doing. That was, until he rutted himself up against his leg, sighing as he did so. Hiccup’s cheeks burned red with humiliation as Dagur continued, cock sliding across the runes of his name. His right hand grabbed at his other thigh, his left curling fingers under the front of his collar and pressing against his throat, making it difficult to breathe.

“Mm, you’ve got nice thighs, babe. Especially this one since it has my name in it.”

Hiccup closed his eyes, wanted to block his ears but didn’t. He couldn’t stand the sensation of Dagur rubbing up against him. He realized he could easily hurt him in this position, could bring up his knee and slam it into his balls, but that would cause him pain in return. Dagur would show no mercy for hurting him there.

Dagur groaned, tugged on his collar and squeezed his left thigh to the point of pain. He then heaved out a laugh. “It’s like I’m fucking my name.” He laughed again, louder this time, pace quickening. “And you know how a while - _ungh_ \- back I said you’d look good with a collar? You do. You really do. So pretty. All mine.”

“Shut… up…”

“How about _you_ shut up and let daddy make himself cum?” There was a sudden anger in his words, and his knuckles dug into his throat. Hiccup choked, attempted to pull in a breath but couldn’t. His left hand went to grasp at his wrist to try to pry his fingers loose.

After a few moments, Dagur let him breathe, but Hiccup decided not to say anything else, settled for pulling in air instead. Dagur rambled on, his words occasionally interrupted with grunts and moans, as he rutted himself against his leg.

Hiccup couldn’t remember having ever felt so humiliated as when Dagur finished across his thigh and lower abdomen. The chief stilled atop him, panting, and the silence let Hiccup ponder over what had happened. For some reason the fact that Dagur had gotten off from just one of his _legs_ made him realize how far his sexual infatuation with him went, just how obsessed he was with him and his body. He felt used, which he found odd given that he was _constantly_ being used by Dagur. Maybe it was due to the fact that he hadn’t pleasured him during it. He was so used to feeling pleasure along with Dagur, and without it he felt oddly empty and revolted.

He was still trying to make sense of what he was feeling when there suddenly was pleasure. Dagur had wiped his fingers through the cum staining his leg and was now coating his cock with it. The wetness felt good and so Hiccup let his body buck into it with a moan.

“Hiccup, I’m sorry I hurt you. I mean, no, I’m not. You deserved it, but-” Dagur rubbed his slick thumb over the head of his cock and was interrupted by how loudly he moaned at it- “I wish the injuries didn’t last, you know? I’m saying it for selfish reasons honestly. I don’t really want you to _not_ feel pain ’cause I’m still pissed at you, but I just want to fuck you.”

Hiccup didn’t know what to say to this, didn’t think there was anything he could say. He hated it when Dagur shared his thoughts with him. And worst of all, he was feeling that hatred for his name again, that hatred for the person attached to it. Hiccup the _Whore_. He was a whore, wasn’t he? He was often called that, usually by the guards and sometimes even by Dagur, but his body proved it more than anything. His body wanted the hand that was carefully stroking his cock, wanted more than it was giving him, though he knew it would hurt. His body wanted Dagur to fuck him, so in a way, didn’t Hiccup?

He pulled away from himself, from _Hiccup_ , and just watched what was happening to him. He watched as Hiccup moved slowly and steadily into Dagur’s touch, watched as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Then… fuck… me…”

Dagur didn’t even ask if he was sure. He watched as he made Hiccup suck on his fingers, watched as he then put those same fingers between his legs and tortured him with them. Hiccup was crying out and moaning, but he couldn’t tell if it was from pain or pleasure. His mouth moved a little, clearly attempting words, but none came out.

He watched as Dagur moved between Hiccup’s legs and grabbed onto them, pulling him closer. He heard Dagur tell Hiccup that he was beautiful and that he was his, and he watched him enter him.

Hiccup shook as Dagur slid his cock into him. Dagur paused once he was fully sheathed, stroked his hands over Hiccup’s legs.

“Hurts,” he heard Hiccup tell him.

“Good,” he heard Dagur say.

And then he watched as Dagur took him, slowly at first, but then steadily growing more ferocious. He heard the way Hiccup screamed, saw the way his features were twisted in agony, but he also saw the way his body moved into it, the way precum began to leak from his slit.

 _Slut_ , he thought. _Whore._

He hated this terrible spectacle, this show of sweating, writhing bodies, of shouts and slapping skin. He hated Dagur for what he was doing to Hiccup, and he hated Hiccup for not telling him to stop, for moving with him but crying at the same time. He hated him for screaming wordlessly, for not screaming words like “stop”, “no”, “don’t”. 

And then Hiccup climaxed and he wanted to stab him for it, to yell at him, but he couldn’t for some reason, like his own mouth was already preoccupied with something. Maybe he was yelling along with Hiccup and didn’t hear it. Maybe he was crying with him too, sharing in his pain even though he thought him terrible and disgusting. Maybe he was even feeling his pain: a burning between his legs, a pounding rush of anguish in his lower abdomen, a back that was on fire. Maybe he was seeing through his eyes too, seeing the way Dagur was looking at him. Maybe he was sharing in the shivers that trailed up his spine from that gaze, the shaking that was beginning to take ahold of him. Maybe he _felt_ Dagur’s hands on him instead of just seeing it, heard his voice through Hiccup’s ears instead of another pair. Maybe he was the one who was a trembling, ruined excuse for a human with Dagur still between his legs. Maybe he was the slut, the whore, the slave. Maybe he was Hiccup, and Hiccup was him.

He didn’t have time to figure it out. Hiccup fainted, and so did he.

 

Dagur paced. He paused, looked over at Hiccup, soundly unconscious on the bed. Then he continued pacing. He was angry. Angry at Hiccup, angry at himself. He’d known Hiccup was hurting but he hadn’t been able to control himself, and now he’d most definitely hurt him more. But he still felt like Hiccup deserved to hurt. He _liked_ hurting him. And then for some reason Hiccup had _told_ him to do it, so why wouldn’t he? Why would he have stopped himself?

He stopped pacing again, looking over at him. Even in the dim light he could tell that he looked pale, sickly even. He was far from beautiful at the moment.

“That’s your fault, you idiot.” Dagur didn’t know if the words were directed at himself or Hiccup. It worked for both of them, he supposed.

Dagur continued pacing. He was stressed and even anxious and he didn’t know what to do with himself. He felt stuck. He didn’t know what to do about any of his enemies and he didn’t even know if he considered Heather to be one of them. He was sick of hiding from Berk and giving them false leads, but he should probably deal with Heather first, that way he’d have a place to fall back to if any large-scale attacks failed. If Berk didn’t have dragons, he’d have the advantage in numbers, but that was the thing: they _did_ have dragons. He didn’t.

_Maybe I should meet with her._

_No, she wouldn’t agree to that. She probably wants to kill me._

That thought hurt him more than he had expected it to. He loved Heather, didn’t want her to hate him. It hurt to be hated by the ones he loved. It made him upset. The only two people he loved in his life would be happy seeing his throat cut.

_It’s not fair, it’s not fair._

Still pacing, Dagur released an angered growl and grabbed at his hair. This was a mess. His _life_ was a mess. What was he going to do tomorrow or the day after that? Or the next week? Month? Year?

Dagur shouted, kicked at a leg of the table. Stunned by his own outburst, he glanced over at Hiccup. He hadn’t moved. Then, not caring that it was dark outside, that he was neglecting a cloak, he stomped out of the tent.


	57. Chapter 56

Heather stood before the council with her hands folded in front of her, resisting the urge to pace. Most of them had gathered, but there was still one person missing, so she’d wait till he arrived to make her announcement. It had been a little over an hour since the discovery of Falki’s body. She wanted to take care of this right away instead of waiting around and letting any possible evidence go stale. She _needed_ to find out who was working against her, and she was certain at least one person in the council was.

She was grateful for Astrid’s presence beside her. She hadn’t left her side since the assassination attempt and she doubted she would anytime soon. Her constant presence could have even been seen as overprotective, but Heather didn’t mind. It was comforting to have someone she loved so close to her in a strange place… and she was pretty certain that she loved her. It was hard though. She didn’t want to pull Astrid away from Hiccup or minimize her feelings for him, but he’d been gone for two months. Both of them were beginning to lose hope. There hadn’t been news from Berk in a while, just the occasional message to let them know that they were continuing the search but hadn’t found anything. And now with the recent development of Falki’s death, Heather was beginning to fear that they would never find him.

Tears pricked in her eyes. She tried blinking them away, but one slid freely down her cheek. She hurriedly wiped at it, hoping no one would notice. She felt Astrid’s hand on her shoulder and glanced over at her.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” she whispered. It was a lie. They both knew it, but they both kept telling each other that anyway.

Heather said nothing in response, just tightened her lips and nodded a little. She looked back to the council, who were all talking quietly amongst themselves. 

“Who are we waiting for?” Astrid asked.

“Thorn,” Heather responded. “He’s not usually late.” Given what had happened, suspicion stirred in her. Why was he late?

 _There could be a number of reasons for it_ , she told herself. But maybe she should listen to her suspicion. Was it really paranoia when someone had tried to kill her, when there were people living among her that were working against her? If only she could send a note to Dagur to arrange a meeting with him. Of course, that would require actually knowing where he was.

_Why hasn’t he tried talking to me? Why has he been so quiet?_

_Probably because he doesn’t want anyone to take Hiccup from him._ The thought made her sick. She’d had sex with Dagur, but she still couldn’t really imagine what he was putting Hiccup through. He didn’t want it, while she had. Sure, she’d been tentative about it at first, but Dagur had just talked and kissed her and eased her fears. She’d learned that he could be gentle. Not always, but she’d been fine with that, had even liked it when he was rough about it. Their sexual relationship had been casual, the act happening once a day or every other day, but with Hiccup she was sure it was more frequent. He was obsessed with him. Usually Dagur liked to keep his eyes open during sex, but there had been times where he would close them and get this deep look of concentration, as if he was imagining that she was someone else, that he was thrusting into Hiccup instead of her. There had even been a few times where she’d been sure she’d heard his name from his lips, quiet and not meant for her, but audible nonetheless. She’d get upset with him when he did that, would usually retaliate with her own ferocity, her own hatred, because she did hate him. She hated him like she hated no one else. He’d killed her family, but for some reason there was this part of her that craved him, to be close to him, connect with him in some way. Sex had seemed to be the only way to do it, the only way to actually understand him. And while she tried to connect with him and understand him, he’d fantasize about taking her friend with or without his consent; it didn’t matter to him. There was no telling Dagur “no.” He did what he wanted when he wanted without a care to who was hurt in the process. 

So she hated him. And the child he’d unwittingly given her. She hated everything.

The sound of one of the doors to the hall opening pulled Heather from her thoughts. She looked up, hadn’t even realized she’d directed her gaze to the floor. Thorn had entered, striding swiftly over to join the rest of the council.

“Sorry I’m late, my lady. I was held up with-”

“Never mind why you were late,” Heather interrupted curtly. “You’re here now, so let’s get started.”

“Yes, what is this about?” Hilda questioned.

“Falki is dead,” Heather announced, which drew gasps from many of the councilmembers. “Astrid and I found his body a little over an hour ago. His guard was knocked unconscious and he’d been stabbed multiple times in the back.” She didn’t know any way to bring up her next point strategically. It would be best to just say it. “I suspect that… that it was one of you who did it.” It sounded ridiculous when it came out of her mouth. These people had appointed her as chief and now she was accusing them of a serious crime with no evidence.

_But no, it has to be one of them._

The council burst into loud outcries of how ridiculous that was, how unfounded, questioning how she could accuse them of such a thing. Heather raised a hand and they obediently fell into silence.

“I know I have no evidence of this, and that’s why Astrid and I see fit to search your chambers.”

More cries of outrage. She’d known she would get this kind of reaction from them, but she didn’t plan on backing down.

“This is outrageous!” Thorn cried. “A complete violation of power!”

“What would you do were you in my place?” Heather had to try very hard not to raise her voice. “Someone tried to kill me. That person had information about where to find my brother, and was killed before he could talk. He said that there was more than one person working against me, and his death has made that overly obvious. So would you live in fear or try to figure it out? Please, enlighten me.”

Thorn looked absolutely enraged. “Dagur would have never-”

“No! He wouldn’t!” Heather snapped, the mention of his name making her lose her composure. “You know what Dagur would have done? He would have killed whoever he suspected on the spot without any questions asked! You’d be lucky if he only killed one of you! It wouldn’t matter to him if you’d been innocent or not! He’d _laugh_ at having your blood on his hands, and at the end of the day he wouldn’t sleep any worse for it! He’d kill every last one of you if the mood struck him! So forgive me for trying to protect myself without hurting anyone in the process!”

Thorn took a step back, eyes wide. He said nothing. The rest of the council seemed to have lost their arguments as well.

“So, Thorn,” Heather began, “how about we start with you?”

“What?”

Heather stepped down from the dais, approached him. She looked him in the eyes, trying to search for any sign that he was lying.

“Well, I suppose you have nothing to hide, right?”

“Um, no, of course not.” Had his pupils widened a little or had that been her imagination? That was a sign of lying, though a very subtle one. 

“Good, so we’ll search your rooms first,” Heather said. She brushed past him, heading for the doors, Astrid falling into step beside her. “The rest of you will remain here until it is your turn. The guards outside are not permitted to let you leave.” She knew it seemed harsh, tyrannical even, but she had to do it. She couldn’t chance any of them going back to their chambers and removing possible evidence while she was searching someone else’s rooms. This wasn’t a game, and she wasn’t about to treat it like one. “Thorn, come and show us the way.”

 

Thorn didn't speak as he led them to his chambers. Heather didn't know if it was due to nerves or rage. She wanted to reach out and take Astrid's hand, but she didn't. It would seem unbecoming at the moment.

She was nervous. What if Thorn was the traitor? What if he would strike at her once they were alone behind closed doors?

 _But I'm not alone. I have Astrid._ That thought served to comfort her a bit. Astrid had her axe, she had her axe. What did Thorn have? It was two against one. He couldn't seriously be that stupid, especially if he was the one working for Dagur. 

Upon reaching his chambers, Thorn opened the door and let them in first. Heather's anxiety built at the sound of it closing behind her.

"I can't believe you're doing this," Thorn seethed.

"I have to do what I have to do," Heather said, voice surprisingly even. "I don't want to die, now do I?" She raised her eyebrows at him, challenging him. He didn't respond.

The first room they entered was a living area with couches and a fireplace. There were a few books scattered about, though their titles were of no consequence. Heather was pretty sure that no one had written a book on how to overthrow their chief. 

She and Astrid checked under each of the cushions on the couches, finding nothing. Heather didn't even really know what she was looking for. What could point to this man having killed Falki? And what if he hadn't even done it? What if the real murderer was back in the throne room waiting for her? And what if it was Thorn and the evidence, (whatever it had been), had already been destroyed?

Heather glanced at the fireplace. "Astrid, check under the logs."

"Really? You think I have something worth burning?" Thorn asked incredulously.

"I don't know if you do," Heather answered. This man was beginning to get on her nerves. Why couldn't he just let her do what she had to do and get it over with? "But if you stopped arguing this would be over sooner."

Thorn grumbled something under his breath, and Heather caught the word "bitch" in it, but she didn't say anything to that. She just left the room to look in his bedchamber, leaving Astrid bent over the fireplace.

 _So Thorn isn't married_ , Heather deduced upon entering the room. The objects in it all fit the same style, only belonging to one person. She was at a bit of a loss on where to start, feeling slightly awkward about searching someone's bedchamber, especially since that someone was practically a stranger to her.

"Heather!"

Heather didn't even hesitate, quickly going back into the first room. She found Astrid holding a black tunic, her axe in the other. She pointed it at Thorn.

"Move away from the door," she ordered. "Can't have you running, now can we?"

"What's this?" Heather asked, stepping forward and taking the tunic from Astrid. It was covered in soot from the fireplace. Luckily, Thorn listened to Astrid, stepping forward and away from the door. There was what looked to be a slight hint of panic in his eyes.

"There's blood on that," Astrid told her, giving the tunic a nod. "On the front of it. Look."

Thorn scoffed. "How do you know it isn't just any ordinary stain?"

Heather brought it close to her face. Sure enough, there was a darker streak in the fabric.

"Then why was it in the fireplace?"

"I was going to get rid of it," Thorn answered.

"Odd way to get rid of clothes," Astrid commented, her voice icy.

"How do you know this is blood?" Heather asked. Thorn was right. It could just be an ordinary stain for all they knew.

"Smell it," Astrid said. "It's kind of hard to make out with the soot and everything, but it's still there."

Heather wrinkled her nose a little in disgust, but she brought the tunic up nonetheless and sniffed it. Soot, ash, and faint but unmistakable: blood. She held up the tunic.

"Why is there blood on this?"

"Just got a little scratch," Thorn said. There was sweat beading on his forehead. His hands were clenching into fists and unclenching. He looked ready to bolt.

"Really? Little?" Heather shook the tunic. The amount of blood on it was indicative of much more than something small.

"Okay, not little, but I swear, it was just from a wound."

Heather crossed her arms. "Fine. Then show us."

"My ladies, I don't think that's quite proper."

Heather shrugged. "Alright. Astrid, arrest him."

"What?! She doesn't have the authority to do that!"

"I just gave her the authority to do that. Or, you could just lift your tunic and show us."

For a moment Thorn said nothing, did nothing. He tightened his jaw, looked between the both of them. "Okay, arrest me. Question me. I don't care. You can't prove anything." His words were terse, angry.

"Yeah, I somehow doubt that," Astrid said. She came forward and poked Thorn in the chest with her axe. He flinched a little. "You're coming with me. We have a recently freed up space in the dungeon."

Heather went with Astrid to take Thorn to the dungeon. Though his hands weren't restrained, he didn't try to fight. He obviously knew the odds were against him. 

He turned to them once in the cell, the very same cell that Falki had occupied until earlier that day. His eyes were narrowed in a glare.

"You can't get away with this."

"Of course I can. You helped appoint me as chief, didn't you?" Heather tightened her fingers around the tunic, hadn't even realized that she'd taken it with her. "You know, you could just lift your tunic and show us the wound and we won't lock you up. Of course, as long as there is something to show and prove that this blood-" she held up the tunic- "is yours."

The anger left Thorn's face, was replaced with defeat.

_We got him._

Without another word, Astrid closed the door of the cell.

 

"Where's Thorn?" Hilda asked upon Heather and Astrid's return. She rose expectantly from her chair. "And what have you got there?" She pointed to the tunic still clutched tightly in Heather's hand.

"He's getting cozy in the dungeon," Astrid answered. "And that's evidence that he may have killed Falki."

Hilda looked disturbed by this news. Heather didn't doubt that it was real. If she trusted anyone on the council it was her. Though, she wasn't going to disregard searching anyone else's rooms. For all she knew, more than one member of the council could be working against her.

She felt very tired all of a sudden. They'd found one. Wasn't that enough? She had expected to feel a grander sense of victory at this, but she didn't. She just wanted to lay down and never move again. Certainly that would be easier than all of this.

"You can search my rooms next," Hilda volunteered. She gave Heather a small smile in an attempt to reassure her. It actually worked a little bit. Heather drew in a deep breath, letting herself relax. She'd tensed all her muscles without realizing it. 

"Alright then." Heather tried to return the smile, hoped that it didn't look like a grimace. "Lead the way."

 

The rest of the afternoon was spent searching the chambers of the councilmembers, but Heather and Astrid found nothing else indicative of betrayal. All they had was Thorn's bloodstained tunic, but it was enough.

Heather sat heavily on the bed, finally loosening her grip on the garment. She looked at it for a long time, not saying anything. Astrid leaned her axe near the door.

"He must have done it," she said quietly. She suddenly felt like maybe they'd gotten the wrong person. Maybe Thorn truly had hurt himself and was just too embarrassed to show them.

But no. There had been true panic in his eyes upon the discovery, true defeat before they'd closed the door.

"Heather, we got the right guy," Astrid told her. She came over, took the tunic from her. She'd been holding it for hours now. "And maybe he won't hold up under questioning. Maybe he'll crack and tell us where Dagur is."

Heather looked up at her. "But what if he doesn't know? What if he's just another link in a chain?"

"Then we pull up the rest of the chain," Astrid said. She tilted her head a little. "We got something good out of today, Heather. Why do you look so defeated?"

"I don't... I don't know." Why _was_ she feeling like this? She looked down at her hands in her lap. Her abdomen was in her view, bulging slightly with the life inside of her, the life she didn't want.

Astrid left, but only to put the tunic down on a table. She came back over, silently took Heather's axe from her back, then went to lean it against the wall next to hers. Then she sat on the bed beside her, taking one of her hands in hers. She didn't say anything, waiting for Heather to speak, to come to some sort of realization about what she was feeling.

"I guess I'm wondering how I'm going to beat him, Astrid," she said after a few minutes in silence. "He has more power than me. There are people still supporting him even though I'm on the throne. He has more influence. And who knows what his numbers are like if it comes to fighting? And it's Dagur. Of course it'll come to fighting. It always does with him. He doesn't understand anything else."

"As much as I want to chop his head off," Astrid began, "I think that once we find him we should still try to come to some sort of diplomatic solution."

Heather lifted her head and looked at her, met her eyes. "Okay, so say we come to a peaceful solution about who should rule - what about Hiccup? He's not just going to give him back to us."

Astrid swallowed hard, looked away. There was a tear glistening in one of her eyes.

"I know."

"So what do we do?"

For a long while Astrid didn't say anything. She just held Heather's hand.

"Well-" she took a deep breath, looked at her again, the tear trailing, seemingly unnoticed, down her face- "we question Thorn tomorrow, see what he knows. And if he doesn't talk we don't starve him. We... we torture him." She sounded like she nearly choked on the word. "We can't wait around. He's not the only one working for Dagur. Someone could let him go or kill him. We have to get the information out of him as quickly as possible."

Heather just nodded. The thought of torturing someone churned her stomach, but if it was to save Hiccup, she would do it. 

She leaned forward and used her free hand to brush the tear from Astrid's cheek. "And when we do get Hiccup back I promise I won't get between you two. I-I love you, Astrid, and I know you love him. I wouldn't be able to do that to you."

Astrid's brows furrowed in distress. "But I love you too, Heather." She said the words quietly, clearly frightened of them, of the power they held. "I love both of you." More tears formed in her eyes and she let them brim over. "I-I don't know what to do, Heather. How can I love two people at once? It's not... not fair. Not fair to Hiccup, not fair to you." She suddenly sobbed, loudly. "And I haven't even _told_ Hiccup that! I never told him I loved him! And now he's suffering without me, without that knowledge!" She collapsed into Heather's waiting arms. " _I never told him I loved him!_ " The words were a tormented wail, and it sounded like someone was digging a knife into her. "I love him and I never told him! I never told him!"

Heather hugged Astrid tightly. She shook in her arms. "Astrid, you'll get to tell him. You'll get to tell him, okay?" She wanted to say _'I promise'_ , but she couldn't. It would feel empty, useless. And, the thought tore at her chest, but what if it never happened?

"I-I want to- want to tell him _now!_ " she insisted. "I w-want to go b-back and tell him months ago! I just want him to _know!_ "

"I'm sure he already knows," Heather said softly. It was breaking her heart to see Astrid like this. "And if he doesn't already know he will. We'll find him." _I promise, I promise._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *whispers* If you can't tell, Astrid is polyamorous in this fic.


	58. Chapter 57

Hiccup was still unconscious when Dagur returned a few hours (and a few mugs of ale) later. He stumbled in, shivering, regretting not bringing a cloak or putting on anything warmer before going out. Though, he'd soon warm up. His attention went to Hiccup's still form.

He took off his snow-covered boots before snuggling under the blankets beside him. Sighing in what could have either been contentment or frustration - he didn't know - he wrapped his arms around Hiccup and held him close. His body was nice and warm against his. He pressed his head against his shoulder and closed his eyes, planning on going to sleep.

The longer he held Hiccup, he began to realize that something wasn't right. He was too warm against him, nearly burning, and he was shivering.

"Wha-?" Dagur mumbled. He brought his hand up to his forehead.

 _Shit._

Hiccup had a fever. Dagur wondered how he had missed it that afternoon. Maybe it hadn't even developed that afternoon. He'd seemed fine save for the injuries he had caused him the day before.

_Hel, it was probably from being out in the snow._

Worried and angry, Dagur threw the blankets off of himself and stood, shivering a little in their absence. This was Hiccup's own fault. If he hadn't tried to escape...

_But he did and now he's sick._

"Fuck, Hiccup, why do ya have to be sush an idiot sometimes?" he muttered, though he knew the other man couldn't hear him.

Hiccup whimpered in his sleep, almost as if in response. 

_Dumbass!_ If he hadn't tried to escape, he wouldn't be like this right now. Dagur wanted to kick something. Instead, he walked shakily to the entrance of the tent, poked his head out. He now had the guards stationed right outside rather than ten feet away. So what if they heard what he and Hiccup got up to? He couldn't have him trying to escape again. He had to keep him safe, even if that meant safe from himself and what his idiocy would bring.

"My lord, is everything alright?" the guard on the left asked before Dagur could speak, looking startled to be seeing him. 

"No. Get-a doctor. Quick. He'sh got-a fever." He snarled the words - though the drunken slur ruined the effect - then disappeared back inside without checking to see if the guard would do what he said. There was no doubt that he would. Not following orders could result in death. Everyone knew that.

He searched around sluggishly in one of his chests for extra blankets. He had to keep his Hiccup warm. 

Finding one made of bearskin, he went back over to the cot and draped it over him. Hiccup moaned a little, a pitiful sound.

"Hiccup, you'll be alright," he told him slowly. "Doctor - sent for."

Then Dagur just stood there, swaying a little, at a loss of what to do. Hiccup's teeth were chattering. In his alcohol-fogged mind he managed to remember something about skin-to-skin contact helping better to warm someone up. He clumsily pulled his tunic over his head, dropped it on the floor.

"I'm'a keep you warm," he informed him, pulling back the blankets and sliding in behind him once again. He took him in his arms, held him against his chest. "Nishe and warm."

Dagur grew impatient waiting for the doctor. He'd said quickly, hadn't he? Was the guard just taking his sweet time about it?

_Gonna have to teach him a lesson for that. He should know better._

Angered, frustrated, and worried, Dagur held on to Hiccup tighter, not knowing whether or not he'd be hurting him had he been awake. It was hard for him to tell when he was holding onto someone too tightly.

Dagur found himself humming a little, the lullaby he'd sung to Hiccup once before. He figured that maybe it was to soothe himself, seeing as Hiccup couldn't hear it. Yes, it was definitely to soothe himself. Still, as he hummed the tune, anger broiled inside of him.

_Idiot. Fucking idiot. Why'd you have to try to leave? Look what you did to yourself. Look!_

He kept his thoughts silent, just continued humming, though raising the volume a little. 

_He'll be okay. He'll be fine. Doctor will be here soon._

"Soon" wasn't as soon as Dagur had hoped. Minutes seemed to drag on like years with Hiccup shivering and whimpering and burning in his arms. Finally, the doctor arrived, slipping in through the tent flaps, her red hair coated in snowflakes.

"I'm sorry, my lord. I came as quickly as I-"

"Shut-up and take care o' him," Dagur snapped. 

The woman just dipped her head, came over to the side of the cot. Dagur refused to let go of Hiccup.

"And he has a fever?"

Dagur grated his teeth. "Yeah! Can't ya tell?!"

The doctor didn't react to his yelling, just bent over and put her hand to Hiccup's forehead. "It's not the worst I've seen," she assured him. She took her bag from her shoulder, began searching through it. "Could you wake him up? He has to take something."

"Mm," Dagur agreed. He gave his Hiccup a gentle shake. He moaned a little in response. 

"Hiccup, wake up."

Hiccup didn't respond.

Dagur shook him again, harder than before. "Come on, baby. Doctor hash somethin' for ya. Gonna help." He looked to the doctor. She'd pulled a few small, spiked leaves from her bag. "Was that?" he asked.

"Coriander. It'll lower the fever," she explained. "It doesn't taste very good, but he has to eat it."

"Come _on_ , Hiccup!" Dagur whined in frustration. "Wake up!"

Hiccup shifted against him. "Hm?"

_Thank Thor. Finally._

"Doctor has herbs ya have ta eat," he told him. "It'll help."

And Hiccup must have opened his mouth, because the doctor leaned forward. Then he was chewing, making a small sound to show his dislike at the taste.

"We should get him some water," she suggested. "His lips look dry."

"The fuck you lookin' at his lips for?" Dagur asked, sudden anger sparking inside of him. He glared at her.

"Um, I-I wasn't. I just noticed-"

"Whatever." Dagur decided he'd be merciful. "Jus' get him water."

The doctor nodded, slung her bag back over her shoulder, and hurriedly left the tent.

_Bitch._

Dagur rocked Hiccup a little in her absence. He made a small sound of complaint, but he didn't know if it was from the rocking or just how he was feeling.

"Babe, gotta stay awake."

" _Why?_ " Hiccup didn't sound the least bit happy.

"Bringin' you water," he said. "Said your lips looked dry. Dunno why she wash lookin' at them." _Bitch_ , he thought again. If she hadn't been helping Hiccup, he would have killed her. He was sure of it with the mood he was in... Whatever mood that was.

Hiccup said nothing, just shivered and huddled against him. The doctor came back in with a jug and a cup. She set the jug down on the table before coming over to the cot.

"Okay, Hiccup, I have that water for you," she said softly.

" _Ungh_."

"Sir, could you help him sit up?"

Hiccup gave a small cry as Dagur sat and pulled him with him. The movement must have hurt. He held him upright in his lap, and Hiccup groaned a little. Dagur almost told him to quit being a baby about it, but he thought better of it. Hiccup didn't need that from him right now.

The doctor came forward and put the cup to Hiccup's lips. Dagur bristled a little at her proximity to him, but said nothing about it. How else was she supposed to help him? 

Once the cup was empty, Dagur gently laid Hiccup back down, readjusting himself against his back. He looked expectantly to the doctor, knew that instructions were coming.

"I'm going to be leaving some coriander on the table over there," she began, pointing. "Give it to him twice a day with a few hours between each, and twice in the night. Make sure he drinks a lot of water. I'll be here to check on him sometime tomorrow, alright? But send for me if he gets worse or develops any other symptoms."

"Got it." Those instructions were easy enough. Though Dagur wouldn't like having to wake up twice in the middle of the night to give the herbs to Hiccup. He'd do it if it would help him get better though. He'd do anything for Hiccup.

"Do you..." The doctor paused, seeming to wonder if it was a good idea to ask her question. Dagur just waited curiously. "Do you know why he's sick?"

Dagur didn't see any harm in her asking that. "Went out in snow," he answered. That was all the explanation he'd give. He wasn't going to tell her that Hiccup had tried escaping, had tried leaving him. His anger flared up for what felt like the millionth time, sadness accompanying it. But then he remembered Hiccup against him, wrapped in his arms. He didn't have to be sad. He had tried escaping, but it hadn't worked. He had him right here. And he'd stay with him this time. He wouldn't leave. He wouldn't be able to.

The doctor nodded a little in understanding. "Just follow those instructions," she said. "Give the coriander to him again in a few hours." Then she left, and Dagur was alone with Hiccup, who'd slipped soundly back into unconsciousness. He was tired, but now felt like he wouldn't be able to sleep, not when he was so worried about his lover.

Dagur leaned his head on Hiccup's shoulder, resigning himself to a long night.

 

_Hiccup dreamt for the first time in weeks. It was a good dream. He was with Bryn. They were just sitting together on a patch of grass, fingers intertwined. There were trees around them, and through them Hiccup could see the houses of Berk: his home. He was home, and Bryn was with him. Then he realized they were leaning against something large, solid, and breathing. It was a familiar sensation, though one he hadn't felt in months. He glanced over his shoulder to find Toothless sleeping peacefully behind them, not minding the humans that were leaning against him._

_Hiccup smiled._

_"This is nice, Bryn," he commented._

_"Who's Bryn?" That voice he was so sick of hearing sent a chill through him. The hand in his was no longer small, was large and rough and squeezing to the point of pain. He looked to his side, saw Dagur sitting beside him._

_"Dagur," he breathed, eyes big. He wanted to move, but didn't for some reason, just stayed put with his hand in Dagur's._

_"Yeah, it's me. Been me the whole time. Why do you look so surprised?"_

_"Where's Bryn?"_

_"Who's Bryn?"_

_Hiccup clamped his mouth shut, realized that he probably shouldn't have repeated her name. Dagur wasn't supposed to know about her, about his relationship with her._

_"Hiccup?" He tilted his head a little in question._

_Hiccup tightened his lips and shook his head. He wouldn't answer._

_Dagur scooted closer. "Come on. You can tell me."_

_Hiccup elbowed Toothless with his other arm to wake him up. He wouldn't have to deal with Dagur anymore if Toothless was awake._

_The dragon didn't move._

Come on, Toothless, get up, _he pleaded silently. He elbowed him again. Then he realized that there was no sensation of him breathing, his body having gone still against his. Tears pricked in his eyes and he felt like his throat was closing._

_"Hiccup, what's the matter?"_

_"D-dead? Toothless?" His voice was an undignified squeak. He wanted to scream._

_"Oh yeah." Dagur looked at Toothless' body almost casually, chuckled. "Forgot I did that."_

_Then Hiccup tried to scream, opened his jaw wide, but nothing came out. Tears rushed in violent rivulets down his face, but he couldn't make a sound. Then Dagur had an arm around him, pulling him close, and Hiccup couldn't move to stop him. He took his open mouth as an invitation, dipping his tongue inside as he crushed his lips to his._

_Finally, Hiccup did scream, but it was muffled by the man that was trying to swallow him._

 

"Bryn."

Dagur was pulled from his half-doze by the sound of Hiccup's voice, quiet and weak.

"What?"

Hiccup repeated the word again, and it took Dagur's inebriated mind a little while to figure out that it was a name. He was saying a name. But whose? Who was this "Bryn?"

"Hiccup, you awake?"

Nothing, so he'd spoken in his sleep. That was strange. Hiccup hadn't said anything in his sleep or even really moved while sleeping in a long time. When he slept he slept like the dead, most likely without dreams.

Dagur wanted to wake him and ask him about it, but it wasn't time to give him the herbs yet. He'd let him sleep until then. It wouldn't be fair if he woke him up now.

Hiccup didn't say anything else in his sleep. He just moaned a little in clear distress.

"Hiccup, sh, ish okay." Dagur stroked fingers through his sweat-soaked hair. He didn't know if he could hear him or not, if his voice would make it into his dreams the way reality sometimes did, but he wanted to try to comfort him anyway.

Hiccup whimpered in response, shifted a little against him. Then he fell silent and stopped moving altogether. That seemed to be it for now.

 _Who's Bryn?_ Dagur questioned. Was she one of Hiccup's friends? He found that odd. He'd never heard the name until now. Surely if Hiccup had known her before all this Dagur would have known about her.

Jealousy curdled in his stomach and he turned his lips down in contempt. _Bryn._ Who was this girl who's name Hiccup was muttering in his sleep? Why hadn't he heard it before?

Dagur grew frustrated at his drunkenness. That was probably what was hindering him from figuring it out right now. The answer seemed so easy, but it was out of his reach.

"Bryn," he growled. He adjusted himself to get a little more comfortable. He was growing stiff from not moving. He wanted to keep pondering over it, but thinking anymore made his head hurt. He'd have to figure it out when he was sober. He told himself that surely it was nothing, that he was worrying over something stupid. Maybe that hadn't even been what Hiccup had said. Maybe he'd tried saying another word entirely but sleep had made his mouth move incorrectly and garbled the sound.

Dagur closed his eyes again. He wouldn't sleep fully, but he would let himself doze.

And as he dozed the name floated around in his head. Bryn. Who was Bryn? Was it even a person? Was he talking about something else? Was it just utter nonsense that Hiccup's dreaming self had come up with? Who knew - maybe he'd be alert enough when he woke him in the next few hours for Dagur to ask him about it.

 _It's probably nothing,_ he told himself. _Probably nothing._

But still, there was that jealousy. Why was Hiccup saying someone else's name in his sleep instead of his? Dagur was sure that if Hiccup ever did dream anymore, that it was occasionally his own name that graced his lips. That's how it was supposed to be: Hiccup saying his name, not this _Bryn._

_Stop thinking about it, Dagur. You’ll figure it out in the morning._

Morning, however, seemed like forever away. He wanted to wake Hiccup, demand an answer from him right this instant.

Dagur shook him a little, was going to call his name and shake him harder, but he stopped himself.

_No, let him sleep. He needs to sleep._

_But who's Bryn?_

_Stop thinking about it, Dagur!_

He shifted again, pressed his nose to the back of Hiccup's neck to inhale his scent and calm himself. At the moment he smelled mostly of sweat, but he didn't care; he breathed deeply. In the morning. He'd ask him in the morning.

 

The last thing Hiccup wanted was to be woken in the middle of the night by Dagur, the subject of all of his nightmares, but he was pulled from his terrifying dreams with his huge arms around him. Hiccup just moaned a little. He felt absolutely awful: his body hurt everywhere, his head hurt, and he was cold. The heat of Dagur's body against his own was uncomfortable, his breath on his neck unsettling. He just wanted him to let him go, to let him sleep alone, if not in peace.

Then Dagur did move off of him, speaking. Hiccup only vaguely understood what he was saying through the haze that had thrown a weighted net over him. So when Dagur came back over, he opened his mouth like he wanted him to, was met with the sharp, terrible taste of the herbs he'd eaten earlier, but he chewed and swallowed them down nonetheless. He flinched at the feeling of a hand on his shoulder. Dagur said something about helping him sit up so he could drink water. Hiccup didn't even bother trying to tell him that he could sit up on his own. That would be an outright lie. He knew he couldn't.

Dagur got him sitting, and he shivered as the blankets fell away from him. Though, he was grateful for the cool touch of water in his mouth and throat. He hadn't realized just how thirsty he was.

Then he was allowed to lay back down and resume his dreams of Dagur killing everyone he loved. If only that included himself.

 

Hiccup could feel Dagur's eyes on him, questioning. He was tired and wanted to go back to sleep, his exhaustion outweighing the fear of more nightmares, but the way Dagur was staring at him was making his skin crawl. He figured he wouldn't have felt it had he still been in a haze, but it had cleared for the moment.

Finally, he spoke: "Hiccup, who's Bryn?"

Hiccup's eyes popped open. It felt like a hand had gripped his throat and squeezed while he was simultaneously punched in the chest. How did Dagur know that name?

He drew in a shuddering breath once he remembered how to breathe. He was glad that Dagur was standing behind him instead of in front so he wouldn't be able to see his reactions.

"Who?" His voice was weak, hoarse. Hopefully Dagur had heard him. He didn't want him to think he hadn't answered. That would just be a clear sign that he was hiding something from him.

"Bryn. You said the name in your sleep."

_Oh fuck._

Hiccup felt like fire had been poured down his throat and into his stomach, and then it spread outwards through his veins to the rest of him. He knew. Dagur _knew._

 _No, he doesn't know everything_ , Hiccup reasoned. _That’s why he’s asking me about it._

"I-I don't know," Hiccup responded. He cleared his throat, but that just made it hurt more. "You sure that's what I said?"

"Um, well, I don't know. I was pretty drunk last night," he admitted. "But that's what it sounded like."

"Yeah, I don't know anyone named Bryn," Hiccup told him. It was easier to lie with his back turned to him. "I must have said something else."

Dagur grunted a little. "Yeah, maybe. Sorry for bothering you about it." He came around the side of the cot, kissed Hiccup on his burning forehead. "Just go back to sleep."

It was difficult to now that Dagur had brought that up. He'd said Bryn's name in his sleep, probably because she'd been in a few of his dreams. That had never been a problem before, not since he'd stopped dreaming.

He tried not to flinch as Dagur got back under the blankets with him. He seemed intent on not leaving his side. The pressure of his chest against his back made his wounds sting. Then his lips were on his neck, briefly.

Then, whether he wanted to or not, he was pulled back into unconsciousness. Once there, he was met with a smile from Dagur and a knife in his hand.

 

Astrid was glad to see Thorn chained up. This was the man who had conspired against Heather, who wanted to see her dead. He was standing, chained to the ceiling by his wrists, glaring defiance at her and Heather. 

Astrid wasn't even sure what to ask him first. There were so many questions to ask. She wanted to start with where Dagur was, but first she had to find out if they'd truly gotten the right man.

"Did you kill Falki?" It almost felt ridiculous to ask it so plainly.

"What do you think?" Thorn snapped.

"You know what we think since you're chained up in here," Heather said sharply. "Now did you kill him?"

"I did."

Astrid was a little surprised by the man's honesty, but then again, he knew that he'd been caught.

"And it was because he had information that couldn't be shared?" Astrid inquired.

Thorn nodded. He didn't look the least bit subdued for telling the truth though. "And because there had been no order to kill you," he said, looking at Heather. "He just took it upon himself to do so. Dagur doesn't want you dead."

"Oh, so that's supposed to make me feel better?" Heather snarled. She stepped forward. "You were still acting against me."

"Dagur's the rightful chief," Thorn stated, standing up straighter. "You're just his slut of a younger sister."

Astrid wanted to slap him for that, but Heather beat her to it with a furious yell. They both knew what he meant by the comment, that he was putting her down for her pregnancy. 

Thorn straightened, then had the gall to laugh at being struck across the face. Heather smoldered at him.

"Seriously, who's the father?" he asked, still sounding amused. "Why haven't you told anyone?"

"Because it's no one's business," Heather said tersely.

"Do you not know who the father is?"

Astrid decided not to hold herself back from hitting him. He yelped as her hand connected with his reddening cheek. "Listen, we're supposed to be the ones asking the questions, okay?"

"A man can't be curious?" Thorn asked almost innocently. Astrid scowled, but didn't respond to that. 

"What are Dagur's current orders?"

Thorn shrugged. "He hasn't given any that I know of."

"You're lying," Heather accused.

"You know, just because I don't like you doesn't mean that I'm lying about everything," Thorn said with a roll of his eyes. "He hasn't given any orders. I don't know what he wants."

"Okay, fine. Then where is he?" Heather had narrowed her eyes. 

Thorn just tightened his lips.

"Where is he?!" The shout was loud enough to ring around in the hallway outside the closed door.

 _Come on. Just talk._ Astrid wasn't intent on the idea of torturing anyone. She hadn't come here with any real plans on what to do if Thorn didn't talk, but now he was just staring between them with his mouth clamped shut.

 _Gotta start somewhere._ Astrid clenched her right hand into a fist and punched him hard in the gut. Thorn choked, tried to double over, but the chains wouldn't let him. Just for good measure, she hit him again. She had to admit it felt satisfying. 

Thorn gathered his breath, lifted his head. All he did was stare.

"Tell us where he is!"

"Or what? You'll starve me like you did Falki? If that didn't work on that wimp of a boy, then it's certainly not going to work on me."

"That can just be an added bonus to whatever we decide to do to you," Heather told him.

Thorn snorted. "You two are tough - I'll say that - but I don't think either of you has it in you to torture someone. To get someone else's blood all over your hands. To hear him scream."

 _Oh, he's just asking me to prove him wrong._ Astrid drew her knife. She was ready to use it. She was sick of waiting around. She was going to get answers.

Thorn looked at the knife, smirked. "Well come on then, little lady. Hurt me. Bet you don't-" He was interrupted by his own pained yelp as Astrid slashed the knife across his underarm. Then she did it again, just beneath the first cut. Blood came out in enthusiastic streams.

Astrid hated to admit it, but that had felt good, to cause pain to someone that was helping in keeping Hiccup from her, in prolonging his suffering, to cause pain to someone that was aiding that _monster_.

"Tell us where he is." Her words were commanding and cold.

"Cut me again, girl, but I'm not talking," Thorn spat angrily. 

Astrid stepped closer and took his invitation. She'd lusted after blood for months now, and she was about to get it.


	59. Chapter 58

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So by now you guys have obviously noticed that chapters are coming out very quickly. That's because I'm doing NaNoWriMo! Trying to bust out 50k more words of this thing in a month! So far it's going really well. Hope you guys enjoy!

Astrid felt hands on her, pulling her away from Thorn. She slashed out one more time, but missed, already too far away to reach him.

"Astrid, stop."

"Let go of me!" She tried pulling away from the hands on her shoulders, but they clutched her tight.

"Astrid." The voice was steady, serious.

Astrid turned towards it, eyes meeting Heather's, vision blurry for some reason. She'd entirely forgotten that she was there.

"Why are you stopping me?" Her voice was a little hoarse and she cleared her throat. Why was Heather stopping her? She didn't _want_ to stop. Thorn hadn't talked yet, and she was desperate to get information out of him, desperate to _hurt_ him.

"He's unconscious." Heather nodded her head over Astrid's shoulder toward Thorn. Astrid glanced behind her, saw that Heather was right, that the man was hanging limply from the chains. His tunic hung off of him in bloodied shreds. Scarlet dripped and trickled from him in numerous places, creating a puddle on the floor. Stunned, Astrid looked down at her own hands. The blade of her knife was no longer gleaming, completely coated in blood. It stained her hands as well. She then realized that her vision was blurry because she was crying. She wanted to wipe the tears away, but that would only smear blood on her face. Then Heather was doing it for her, cupping her cheeks and wiping the tears away with her thumbs, lifting Astrid's face to look at her.

"Astrid, are you okay?"

"He wouldn't talk, Heather."

"That doesn't answer my question. I asked if you were okay."

Astrid drew her eyes away from Heather's, looked once again to her bloody hands. "No."

"We'll get him to talk, okay?" Heather's thumbs stroked her cheeks. "We'll just have to try again tomorrow, and the next day if it comes to that. He'll tell us where Dagur is eventually. Just not today."

"But that's one more day Hiccup has to spend with him," Astrid said, distressed.

"Astrid, you're not going to get anything out of him while he's unconscious, and if you keep it up like this you might kill him."

Astrid nodded a little, seeing Heather's point. They needed Thorn alive. Dead men didn't talk.

"Okay." Heather smiled a little, but it looked more like a grimace. Her eyes were soft though, sympathetic. "Let's go get you cleaned off."

 

Bryn was disappointed to find the chief in the tent when she walked in with a tray of food. She only glanced briefly at the cot, found him laying with Hiccup wrapped in his arms. Hiccup looked to be asleep.

She didn't look long though, not wanting to be noticed. She just went over to the table and put the tray down. She was stopped by the chief's voice as she made to leave, and her heart leapt into her throat.

"Slave, come here."

She didn't question him, just turned around and made her way over to the cot, trying not to look at Hiccup. He didn't look well - pale and sweating - and that made her worry. She kept her head lowered, not meeting the chief's eyes. She folded her hands meekly in front of her.

"What's your name?"

Bryn almost looked him in the eye then, shocked that he was asking her such a question. No one asked her her name, and she hadn't expected such a question to come from the chief, who always ignored her and the other slaves unless he was asking them to do something.

"Bryn," she answered nervously. Why did the chief care all of a sudden?

"Do you know him?" He lifted a hand from Hiccup, pointed at him.

"I just..." She paused, trying to figure out what to say. "I bring him food."

"But do you _know_ him?" The chief asked again, command in his tone. "Do you know his name?"

"No, my lord." Bryn figured it would be a good idea to lie about such a thing. The chief was dangerous, prone to jealousy. She didn't know how he would react if he knew that she did.

"You sure?"

"I promise you, I don't know him, sir," she said. "I only bring him food. We don't talk."

"Hmm..." The chief was silent for a bit, clearly pondering. Bryn felt sweat bead on her temples, her stomach twisting. "Fine. Get out."

"Yes, sir." Bryn bowed before leaving, making sure not to look at either the chief or Hiccup, to keep her eyes lowered to the floor. She was quick about leaving. Certainly the chief would only take that as him having frightened her, and he surely had. Why was he asking her these questions? Why was he asking her her name and if she knew Hiccup?

She went out into the darkness and the snow, feeling like she wanted to run; run and just keep running. But she couldn't run. She was stuck here, and running would mean leaving Hiccup behind. She couldn't do that to him. She didn't want to leave him stuck here on his own with the crazed chief as his only company. She couldn't do that. She wouldn't.

 

Hiccup was yanked violently from sleep by someone stabbing him in his left leg. He shouted, kicked out, but the pain continued. He was just stabbed somewhere else, a little above his ankle.

"Dagur, stop! _Stop it!_ "

"Wow, Hiccup! What the Hel? I'm not doing anything!"

Then his toes were grabbed, squeezed and _shattered_. " _Stop!_ "

"Hiccup, I'm not doing anything! What's going on?"

Then Hiccup realized that Dagur was telling the truth. He had both his arms wrapped around him, hands clasped over his chest. And then he realized that he didn't have a left ankle, or toes, but they were hurting anyway.

"Ph-phantom pain," Hiccup gasped out. He hadn't had it happen to him in his captivity yet, had hoped that it would hold off until he was rescued. He didn't want to explain this to Dagur, didn't know how. Needles jabbed into the toes that weren't there anymore, and he yelped.

"What now?" Dagur sounded concerned.

"Phantom-" Hiccup was cut off by what felt like a hammer smashing his nonexistent foot. He tried to scream, but just choked instead. Once the pain subsided a little he took a deep breath. "Pain."

"What's that? What do I do to make it stop?" Dagur sounded on the verge of panic. He squeezed him a little harder for it, and Hiccup didn't like that.

"D-Dagur, calm down," he got out, voice tight. "I-it happens to - _ow!_ \- people who've lost - _agh!_ \- limbs. I-it's fine. It'll pass on it's own." He groaned, curled in on himself as best as he could with Dagur holding him. It didn't help that he was hurting everywhere else as well. And he was just so _cold_. His body was aching more than it had in a while, and his head was throbbing.

"You sure I can't do anything?"

"Y-you can shut up." Hiccup instantly regretted saying it out loud, feared he'd get some sort of retaliation for it, but Dagur didn't do anything other than growling low in his throat.

Hiccup clenched his teeth over another pained yell, groaned instead. He hated whenever this happened. Usually he had Toothless to comfort him through it, but now he had no one. Though, Dagur began stroking one hand through his hair and over his face, and that felt nice. He could feel the tension coming off of him, though, the worry. He was clearly still confused. Honestly, Hiccup couldn't even say he fully understood this. It was odd that he would feel pain in a part of his body he didn't even have anymore. The first time it had happened he had been terrified, and surprisingly his father had been there for him, telling him that Gobber had said something like this might happen, that it was normal after losing a limb. Why such a thing happened after losing a limb was beyond any of them, and so Hiccup just had to deal with it. There was nothing to be done but wait it out.

He shook as the pain continued. He could feel all his muscles tensing up. He hated that part too. He always ached after these, and he really didn't need that to add on to what he was already feeling.

Hiccup cried. How could he not when it felt like his left leg was being crushed and ground between two boulders? Then it was being stabbed all over with spikes, not a single inch of what used to be part of his left leg free of the torment. He could feel his entire leg, his foot, his toes, like it was all still there, but the feeling wasn't worth it when all it came with was this pain.

Eventually, it stopped, and he could no longer feel the missing part of his leg. Sensation ended at his stump, and he was grateful for it. He inhaled deeply, uncurled his body, willing his muscles to loosen. Dagur kept caressing his face and his hair.

"Is it over, Hiccup?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Is that... normal?" He sounded disturbed.

Hiccup nodded, kept taking deep breaths. His body ached like he wouldn't believe, his head throbbed harder. He shivered, found himself huddling against Dagur, longing for his body heat. They were both naked, but Hiccup didn't care. He wouldn't feel Dagur's heat as well through his clothes.

“That’s weird. Do you know why it happens?”

“No.” Hiccup was thirsty, hungry even, but he didn’t want to ask Dagur to get him anything. If he did he wouldn’t be holding him anymore, wouldn’t be providing him with heat.

“How often does it happen?”

“Every couple months, I guess.” Hiccup didn’t really want to talk to Dagur. He was grateful for the warmth of his body, but he was sick of everything else. He wished he was being provided warmth by somebody else, somebody he actually liked, that Dagur’s hand wasn’t still stroking the side of his face.

Dagur shifted, pressed his lips to his ear. Hiccup tensed, worrying that there was some sexual need in it, but his lips didn’t stay. “I’m sorry that happens, baby.” 

They were silent for a bit, Hiccup just trying to ignore the feeling of Dagur’s breath on his neck, of his hand on his face. Eventually, the silence led to sleep, and it was calm this time, free of nightmares.

 

Dagur didn’t believe Hiccup, and he certainly didn’t believe the slave girl. That’s why, when Hiccup had been soundly asleep for a while and his shivering had ceased, he stood up and dressed, intent on talking to the guards. 

Though it was afternoon, the sun was rising when he stepped outside. It wouldn’t stay up for long however. That’s just how it was in the winter.

The guards didn’t pay much attention to him as he walked past, probably thinking that he was leaving. Though, they stood straighter as he turned back to them, crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Sir, have we done something wrong?” the one on the right asked.

“No. I just need to know something. The slave girl that brought in food earlier, she’s usually the one that does it, right?”

“Yes, my lord,” the one on the left answered. “Every day.”

“And does she leave right after?”

“No.” The one on the left again. “She stayed for as long as two hours one time.”

Dagur ground his teeth together. So she and Hiccup had lied to him. They knew each other, very well it seemed. “How often does she stay?”

“Almost every time, my lord,” said the guard on the right.

“Do you ever hear anything from inside the tent when she does? Conversation? Anything?” Jealousy curdled Dagur’s stomach. It was clearly evident by the amount of time spent together that Hiccup liked this girl, probably a lot. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d had sex with her. The very thought set his blood alight with anger. No one was allowed to touch Hiccup save for him. Hiccup knew that. To think that he’d go against that, let somebody that wasn’t _him_ touch him. Dagur had the sudden urge to hurt him again.

The guards looked between each other. “Nothing,” one said, the other nodding. 

“Nothing at all?” 

They both shook their heads.

Dagur guessed that was good at least. Hiccup was loud during sex. If he and that slave girl had done it someone would have surely heard at least a little bit. This whole thing still didn’t sit well with him though. 

Not thanking either of the guards for the information, he went back into the tent. He was angry. He wanted to hit someone, _kill_ someone. He wanted to hurt Hiccup, rouse him from his sleep and demand to know why he’d lied to him, but his anger softened a bit when he looked at him. He was shivering again, cold in his absence.

As Dagur undressed, he decided that this whole thing could wait until Hiccup was doing better. He needed some more time to think about it anyway, to try to ponder what was going. He wouldn’t take action just yet.

He climbed back under the blankets with him and hugged him, his anger fading into the background. For now, he was just content with holding Hiccup and keeping him warm.


	60. Chapter 59

Hiccup was healing well. In a few days his fever had broken. He was able to sit up on his own and was eating and drinking just fine. He was sure that, had his bandages been removed, he would have been able to see his ribs. He’d been losing weight rather quickly now, and was sure Dagur had taken notice.

And he was pleasantly surprised with how Dagur was treating him. He hadn’t yelled at him, hadn’t hit him or hurt him, and he hadn’t touched him in any sexual way. (Though he still kissed him, much to his chagrin.) Hiccup was terribly grateful for it. His body was too weak and pained for him to handle that at the moment.

Currently he was sitting and talking with Bryn, her hand casually in his left one, the fingers of his right having been re-broken when he’d punched Dagur. When she’d resumed her visits after Dagur had decided that he was well enough to be left alone, he’d been nervous at first, though Dagur had never brought up the subject of Bryn save for that one time. He’d seemed to have forgotten about it. Though, that didn’t lower Bryn’s anxiety.

"He asked me my _name_ , Hiccup," she told him for the fourth time.

"Bryn, you're fine," he assured her. "Dagur only asked me about it that one time and I said I didn't know anyone named Bryn. He hasn't brought it up again. Besides, you said you didn't know me either."

"And you think he believed you?"

"Pretty sure he did." Hiccup didn't want to feel worried at the moment. He was tired and just wanted to have a good time with Bryn, not spend it worrying over something that seemed to be behind them. "We're fine, Bryn, okay?"

"Okay." She still didn't sound convinced, but she nodded her head. "So how are your injuries doing?" She'd already asked him about his illness.

"Um..." Hiccup blushed a little. Now that he was no longer drugged or in a haze from the fever, he realized that Bryn had seen him completely naked, had seen what Dagur had done to his genitals. He didn't blame her for being concerned though; he'd seen it too. "Bruising is clearing up a bit," he answered. She didn't know about the damage Dagur had done inside of him though, so he didn't mention that, though he could feel that that was getting better as well. "Not sure about my back. It still hurts like Hel."

"Do you want me to take a look at it?" Bryn asked gently.

Hiccup worked his jaw, thinking. "It wouldn't bother you, would it?" he decided. He was honestly curious about how his wounds looked.

"It certainly won't be as bad as looking at them when they were fresh," she told him. "Which I have."

"Okay." Hiccup shifted on the cot, turning his back to her. He pulled his arms from the sleeves of his robe, let it fall to cover his lower half. He lifted his arms for Bryn so she could unwrap the bandages. 

He shivered a little as they became unraveled: one less thing covering him. He felt a little unnerved at having his naked skin showing, but tried to brush it away. This was Bryn, not Dagur. 

_Bryn won't hurt me. She won't hurt me._ He felt stupid for having to tell himself that. Of course Bryn would never hurt him. He wished that the part of him that was on the verge of panic would just realize that and leave him in peace.

"Looks like they're starting to heal," she said. "It's still... it's still pretty bad though. There are a lot of slashes." She sounded disturbed. "Did he use a knife, or...?"

Hiccup swallowed, tried not to shudder of the memory of that night. "He whipped me."

Bryn winced, began to put the bandages back into place. "I'm sorry he did that to you."

"Yeah, me too," Hiccup said quietly, glumly. "Me too." He lowered his arms once the bandages were replaced. He went to put his arms back through the sleeves of his robe, but found that they weren't where he had expected, Bryn lifting them for him and helping him put the garment back on. He smiled a little. "Thank you, Bryn." He turned back to her, and so the smile remained on his face. Bryn, however, wasn’t looking at him, so it faltered. “What is it?”

"I don't know how you do it, Hiccup," she said, head still turned away. "How you keep... going."

Hiccup didn't know how to respond to this, hadn't been expecting it. He hadn't thought of that in a few days, which was longer than usual. He figured it was the time he was being given to recover that was keeping him in a better mood. He merely shrugged. "I don't know, Bryn." He _did_ know why he kept going. Sometimes. Sometimes it was lost to him, mired in despair, but other times it was clear that he had reasons to keep living, to keep fighting. Currently, those reasons were clear to him. He had a list of them: Toothless. Astrid. Fishlegs. Snotlout. Ruffnut. Tuffnut. His dad. Gobber. Bryn. Toothless. Astrid... It kept repeating in his head. If he kept repeating it he wouldn't lose it. At least, that's what he told himself.

Then she did look at him, eyebrows raised. "What do you mean you don't know?"

"I mean, I do." Hiccup shrugged again. He took her hand in his. "You're part of it, but, can we not talk about something so heavy right now? Let's just enjoy our time together, okay?"

Bryn gave his hand a squeeze. "Okay." She leaned forward, gave him a small kiss on the lips. She pulled away a little to talk, but was still close. "So, I bet there are a million stories you haven't told me yet."

Hiccup smiled, quickly kissed her. "Wanna hear about how Tuffnut has a chicken named Chicken?"

Bryn laughed, pressed her forehead to his. "Are you serious?"

"Totally. I tried talking to him about it but he acted like there was nothing weird about it at all."

"Your friends are crazy, Hiccup."

"And hopefully you'll get to meet them someday."

"No, I'll _definitely_ get to meet them someday."

 

"Hey, do you guys see that?" Snotlout asked as he hovered on Hookfang, pointing out towards the horizon. It was starting to go dark right at the water, like there was some huge sea monster rising from its depths.

"Hold on. I see it. Just not sure what it is," Fishlegs said. He took his spyglass from his saddlebag, put it to one eye while shutting the other one. He studied the spot. Luckily, the sun had cleared the horizon and would stay there for a few more minutes, so they'd be able to make out what it was before it set again.

Fishlegs lowered the spyglass, his face having gone three shades paler.

"What? What is it?" Ruffnut asked. She and Tuffnut were positioned on Fishlegs' other side on Barf and Belch, Tuffnut finally out of his sling.

"Dragon Hunters." Fishlegs' words were practically a squeak. "A-a whole force of them. I've never seen so many ships."

"Come on, it can't be that bad. Give me that." Snotlout hovered closer, held his hand out for the spyglass. Fishlegs gave it to him, eyes still fixed on the dark spot coming towards them.

Snotlout raised the spyglass, and it didn't take long for a stone to fall into his stomach.

"Oh shit," he breathed. " _Shit_."

Then he was tossing the spyglass back to Fishlegs, pulling on Hookfang's horns to turn him around. He darted back towards the Edge, the other Dragon Riders close behind. He flew over the fleet docked in the water, over the stone walls with men and women patrolling the ramparts, over the towers with catapults and guards placed on top. He hoped it would be enough. He _prayed_ that it would be enough. 

He landed hard at the clubhouse, which had turned into a base of operations. Stoick was usually there. Luckily, when he went inside, that stood true. Stoick stood over the table in the center of the room, a map spread before him and a frown turning his lips. He looked up at Snotlout's hasty entry.

"What is it, Snotlout?"

"Chief, we've got a problem." 

Fishlegs and the twins rushed in behind him. "A big, _big_ problem," Tuffnut affirmed.

"There's a huge force of Dragon Hunters heading this way," Fishlegs said, almost breathlessly, "coming from the north."

"How big are we talking?" Stoick asked, standing straight and coming around the table. His hands were clenched into fists.

"They're still far off so it's hard to tell," Snotlout answered. "But it's a lot. More than I've seen before."

Stoick strode past them and out of the clubhouse. Snotlout followed, unsure of what to do, anxiety flooding through his veins. They all just stood together, the chief and the Dragon Riders, staring out at the horizon and the approaching mass of Hunter ships. The sun was dipping lower, it's short life for the day coming to an end. It touched the water and turned it the shade of blood.

"Gather the auxiliary riders and prepare for battle," Stoick said. It seemed as if all emotion had been pulled from his voice. "And send a note to Heather and Astrid. We're going to need the Berserkers for this. I'll prepare the fleet." Stoick stomped off, a purpose to his steps, which was something Snotlout hadn't seen in a while.

"I'll write the note!" Fishlegs volunteered.

"No, wait." Snotlout turned to him. "We should send it as a code. What happens if one of those ships sees the Terrible Terror and intercepts it?"

"Ooh, Snotlout, using his brain for once," Ruffnut commented.

"Oh, shut up, Ruff." Snotlout wasn't in the mood for any of that, especially not now. "Fishlegs, you know which one to use, right?"

"Yeah. The fire, right?"

Snotlout nodded curtly. "And do more than one of the symbols. They need to know how big of a force we're dealing with."

"Got it." Fishlegs climbed onto Meatlug, presumably to go back to his hut.

"Oh, wait, and come back here after," Snotlout said. "We need to meet with the other Riders."

"Will do." Fishlegs took off towards his hut.

"And Ruff and Tuff, you and me will get the auxiliary riders. Come on." Snotlout and the twins quickly mounted their dragons. Worry sped up his movements. With each minute that passed that fleet just grew closer. He felt like there was a giant sundial counting down to their doom.

 

Dagur kissed at the side of Hiccup's face, wrapped an arm around him as he tried to pull away. He felt him cringe, and that hurt him a little bit, but he brushed it away.

"How you feeling, babe?" he asked, genuinely wanting to know. 

"Okay, I guess," Hiccup answered as Dagur kissed at his face again. It felt good to have his skin against his lips. He wanted more of it. He couldn't believe he'd gone days without having Hiccup. It was driving him crazy. 

"How okay?"

"What does that even mean, Dagur?"

"I mean I want specifics," Dagur told him, pulling away. He stroked his free hand through his hair, the other resting gently on his waist. 

Hiccup shrugged. "Not really feeling sick anymore. Just... weak, I guess."

"And the rest of you?" Dagur pressed. He wanted to know if Hiccup was feeling well enough for sex. He wanted it badly, didn't know how he'd kept himself from it for this long. And each night with Hiccup wrapped in his arms it had just grown worse, his smell in his nostrils, his body moving against his as he breathed. Hiccup was intoxicating, and he hadn't allowed himself to get drunk off of him in a long while.

"Back still hurts," Hiccup responded glumly.

Dagur's hand slid down from his waist. "How about your bruising?" 

Hiccup took ahold of his wrist with his left hand. "Dagur, you don't have to look."

"Really?" He massaged his thigh through the fabric of his robe. "Come on, it won't be as bad as the last time I looked. Worried I can't handle it?" he joked.

"Dagur, seriously, it's fine."

"Fine, you say?" He pulled Hiccup's hand off of him, held it tightly as he moved aside the fabric of his robe and bared his cock to him. "Eh, you've still got some bruising." He touched a spot on the shaft and Hiccup whimpered a little. "Like here, for instance." He stroked his finger along his length, watched with rapt attention as he slowly hardened. 

Hiccup groaned. "Dagur, stop."

"I don't think that's what you really want," Dagur said. Hiccup was trying to pull his hand free from his grip, so he just held on harder. "I think you want me to touch you more. Just one finger is driving you crazy, isn't it?"

"Dagur, please. I'm still... I don't feel well." He shifted his legs.

"You said you were feeling okay," Dagur countered, still tracing one finger along his shaft. "Were you lying?"

"No, I..." Hiccup faltered, clearly unsure of what to say. "I still hurt. Inside."

"Don't worry, Hiccup. I don't plan on fucking you like that," Dagur assured him. "I know you still hurt there."

"Th-thank you."

As a reward for thanking him, Dagur wrapped his hand around Hiccup's cock, pumped him gently. It felt so good to have that part of him in his hand again, to hear him release a breathy moan at his touch. He'd missed that terribly.

"Hiccup, are you going to hit me?" he asked. Hiccup shook his head, so he released his wrist. With that hand now free, he began to undo his belt. Then he decided it would probably be better if he was undressed completely. His armor would be cold on Hiccup's skin, and he wasn't trying to cause him pain or discomfort at the moment.

He reluctantly let go of Hiccup and stood. He undressed quickly before easily sliding his robe off of him. Then, just as a precaution, and because he liked it, Dagur used the sash to tie his hands in front of him. Hiccup let him do that too. He would have tied them behind his back, but that would make what he planned on doing uncomfortable for Hiccup, and maybe even painful due to the broken fingers on his right hand.

“Fuck, you look excellent,” Dagur breathed, settling himself down beside Hiccup again. Something about having Hiccup restrained with a collar around his neck aroused him even more. He slid his fingers under the collar and grabbed at it, pulled him forward towards his lips. His other hand went around his cock as he kissed him, and his touch eventually drew a moan out of Hiccup and into his own mouth. Then he tilted his head to kiss at the side of his neck above his collar, glad that he still had access to his skin with it on. 

Hiccup leaned into him and he smiled against his skin before biting him rather hard, loving the cry it coaxed from him. He bit harder, nearly hard enough to break the skin, the taste of him glorious on his tongue. He was tempted to draw blood, to taste that too, to go deeper, but he didn't. Now wasn't a good time for that.

Hiccup sighed a little when he pulled away. "Dagur, why do you bite me like that?" he asked breathlessly.

"Because you taste good," Dagur answered honestly. He chuckled, began rubbing his thumb over the head of Hiccup's cock. He whined and bucked into it. "Kinda want to eat you sometimes."

"Um, please don't."

"Don't worry, Hiccup. I wouldn't ever actually do that." He brought his head back in, nipped him lightly just to tease him, and Hiccup gasped. "You're gonna suck on my fingers for me, okay?"

Hiccup tensed. "But I thought you said-"

"No, not gonna do that, okay?" Dagur brushed his fingers over his lips and Hiccup opened his mouth, let him put them inside. Dagur groaned a little at the sensation of it. "Good boy, Hiccup. Get them nice and wet."

Hiccup moaned around his fingers as he stroked his cock, and it made a shiver run up his spine. When Dagur deemed them coated well enough he pulled them from his mouth, then positioned himself on his back. He was sad to let go of Hiccup, but he'd soon be touching him again.

"What are you doing?" Hiccup had an eyebrow raised at him in confusion.

"You'll see." Dagur beckoned to him with his other hand. "Come kneel above my head." Hiccup began to move up his body, but Dagur shook his head. "No, no, the other way."

"Um, okay." Hiccup crawled over as best as he could with his hands bound, then spread his legs and knelt over Dagur's face. Dagur smiled before lapping at the head of his cock. Hiccup gasped and he did it again, meanwhile lifting his legs and reaching between them. He took Hiccup's length into his mouth as he pressed a finger into himself. It wasn't often that he wanted Hiccup this way, but now was one of the times that he did. He moaned around Hiccup's cock as he inserted a second finger to spread himself open. Hiccup moaned with him, clearly liking what he was doing with his mouth.

As Dagur opened himself up, he imagined that his fingers were Hiccup's, that the touch he was feeling inside of him was his. It was difficult to fool himself though. Hiccup's fingers were no longer as rough as his, and they were longer, more slender - beautiful. Maybe someday he could convince him to do this for him, but he knew it wouldn't happen now. So he just let himself be satisfied with his own touch and the way Hiccup tasted in his mouth.

Once he figured he was open enough to take him, he pulled his mouth from Hiccup. 

"Babe, lay on your back."

"But it still hurts," Hiccup argued.

"Yeah, and it'll hurt if I fuck you in the ass, so do as I say."

Hiccup said nothing else, moved to lay on his back, wincing as he did so. Satisfied, Dagur climbed on top of him, knelt over his cock, practically quivering with excitement. He wanted Hiccup so badly, had wanted him for days without gratification; he was about to get it.

Dagur sighed as he slid down onto him, and the sound Hiccup made was one of the most beautiful he’d ever heard. He brought his hands to his waist, not liking how the bandages kept him from touching his skin. He wanted to tear them off, but he knew he needed them.

He didn’t move for a moment, reveling in the way Hiccup felt inside of him. He was long, longer than him even, the tip pressed snugly up against his prostate. He clenched his muscles around him, wanting more of the sweetness of it, and he felt him throb inside of him, heard him moan.

Pure bliss shot up into his core as he began to move. This was _his_ Hiccup inside of him, his Hiccup bringing him pleasure like this. Liquid fire danced lazily through his nerves. This seemed better after waiting for what had felt like so long.

And Hiccup was beautiful underneath him. His eyes were closed, but for once he didn’t mind. His mouth was open in beautiful moans, his features twisted in pleasure, hands pulling at his bonds. Dagur wondered if maybe it was because he wanted to be free to touch him, but he wouldn’t untie him, didn’t want to. He took too much enjoyment out of seeing him struggle to let him free.

Dagur started slow, wanted to try to keep it that way, remembering that Hiccup’s cock wasn’t fully healed from his abuse to it, but eventually he was moving faster, with more force, unable to help himself. He needed this, needed it bad.

Dagur finished first. He wanted to swear, but all he could do was moan long and loud, his words stolen from him by the explosion of pleasure. He kept on through his orgasm, climbing over the peak of it where sensation ventured into pain. He didn’t care that he was too sensitive, that it began to hurt. Hel, he even enjoyed the pain. He wanted Hiccup to reach his end inside of him, so he didn’t stop.

“You close, Hiccup?” he gasped out.

“Yeah.” The word was a gasp.

Then finally, just as the overwhelming amount of sensation began to pull tears from Dagur’s eyes, Hiccup was climaxing. He shouted and arched into him when he did, tossed his head back. His seed was hot inside of him, sweet and wanted so badly. Dagur sobbed, held onto him harder.

“Gods, Hiccup, _yes_.”

Dagur moved off of him once he was finished, not wanting to hurt him at the moment. He laid down on his side beside Hiccup, the both of them sweating and panting. Hiccup still had his eyes closed.

“That didn’t hurt you too much, did it?” Dagur asked.

“Still hurt though,” Hiccup gasped out.

“I’m sorry, baby.” Dagur stroked a hand over his face. “I just needed you so badly. I’m sorry, but I did.”

Hiccup turned his head away from him. “Stop apologizing.”

“Why?”

“Because you don’t mean it. I-if you did… If you did you wouldn’t keep doing this.”

Dagur wasn’t sure how to answer. He did mean it, really was sorry for hurting him that time, but he just couldn’t help himself. He never could when it came to Hiccup. He was just too damn irresistable. 

“Not my fault you’re perfect,” was all Dagur could come up with to combat his words.

“Oh, shut up, Dagur.”

“No, you shut up.” He said it playfully, though annoyance hinted at his words. Why did Hiccup have to argue with him like this? Then his anger came back to him, the anger that had been festering inside him for days now, ever since learning that Hiccup had lied to him and that he spent time with that slave girl.

 _Gonna have to do something about that_ , Dagur decided as he attacked Hiccup’s mouth with his own. And it would have to be something drastic, or Hiccup would never learn.

 _But_ how _drastic?_


	61. Chapter 60

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna apologize for how twisted Viggo's perspective is in this chapter. It's his fault entirely.

“Um, why are we slowing down?”

Viggo ground his teeth together in annoyance at Ryker’s question. Why did he feel the need to ask about absolutely everything he did?

“We’re not going to attack yet,” Viggo answered.

“But it’s a perfect time to attack,” Ryker argued. “It’s dark again and-”

“No, we wait for now and stay out of range of their catapults,” Viggo told him. “It’s part of Hiccup’s plan. It takes patience, but it’s bound to work.”

“Seems stupid if you ask me. We could just-”

“Yes, well, I _didn’t_ ask you.”

Ryker growled a little in frustration, but Viggo paid him no mind. Ryker would grow angry at him, but he would never act on it. 

“Now go give the order to douse all lanterns and torches. I don’t want a single light. You understand? Not a single one.”

“Aye, Viggo.”

Ryker ambled away, leaving Viggo alone at the prow of the ship. He looked to either side of him, at his force. It wasn’t just made up of the massive galleons they used for dragon hunting, but all different sizes of longships as well. They were smaller and more maneuverable, better in stealthy and agile attacks. They would have no problem surrounding the island undetected. The nearly constant darkness would work in his favor. The Edge was lit up like a dying forest fire, the highest concentration of light letting him know where the most forces were. He was going to play a game of lights, a game Hiccup had come up with. He was a little surprised he hadn’t thought of it on his own, a little envious too, but that was the exact reason he had gone to see Hiccup. He always tried to learn from his enemies when the opportunity presented itself.

One by one, the lights around him began to go out, his ships becoming shrouded in blackness. Soon, the only lights were those from the Edge and from the moon glowing dimly overhead. Unless one were to look closely, it was like his fleet wasn’t even there.

 _Perfect_. For now he just had to wait.

 

Stoick was unsure of what to do. He'd been about to lead the fleet out on Skullcrusher to attack the Dragon Hunters, but they'd stopped their advance. And then, as he watched from atop his dragon, the lights on each ship began to go out. Then he was left staring into darkness, the light of the moon hardly helping to illuminate the enemy ships.

 _And they're out of range of the catapults_ , Stoick realized. The ships of course, weren't out of range of the dragons, but he wasn't going to send the Riders into battle when they couldn't see their enemy and they were outnumbered.

Stoick clenched his fingers tightly around the handholds on Skullcrusher's saddle. It looked like for now they could only wait. As he headed back towards the Edge, he hoped that Heather and Astrid would soon get the note that had been sent.

 

It was the middle of the night when lights reappeared in the sea. The men that had been patrolling the walls had gone to rouse Stoick about it, but he hadn't been sleeping. Soon, he was on the western side of the island, staring out at the lights. It wasn't a lot, not the entire force of Dragon Hunters. They'd branched off then, but it was impossible to tell where the rest of them were. He was unnerved by this. They weren't in the original spot they'd come from, meaning that they'd probably surrounded the island. 

Stoick wanted to go out and attack these ships that were now visible, but such a move didn't feel right to him. They hadn't attacked them yet, and they weren't moving like they were going to, the ships just sitting in the water rather than moving towards the island. And what if it wasn't just a small group of them? What if that's all that was visible, and upon reaching them they'd be overcome by enemies?

It didn't sit well to not do anything either, but what could he do? Perhaps waiting and trying to figure out what Viggo was doing would be better than rushing into a fight blindly.

So, Stoick didn't give any orders, and after about an hour, the lights went out again. He didn't go back to his hut. There would be no rest of any kind for him that night.

 

Viggo felt relaxed enough to go below deck to his chambers. There was nothing he had to do at the moment. His plan, _Hiccup's_ plan, would take time, time he decided to take to rest, something he didn't get the luxury of doing very often.

However, when he got into his bed he just found himself staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep. His mind was racing and keeping him up, as was usual whenever he tried to sleep. He almost got up to find something productive to do, but he didn't move. He told himself there was nothing he had to do at the moment, nothing except sleep. He'd only gotten a few hours here and there in the past few days, and such a pattern had finally caught up to his body. Not his mind though. His mind was busy trying not to think about Hiccup.

Then Viggo realized that there was no good reason _not_ to think about Hiccup, no good reason to not think about what he would have done with him had Dagur actually taken his offer and sold him.

He would have tied him to a table first. He couldn't possibly leave him unrestrained when removing his brand. He had a skinning knife in the set of knives he used for torture. That would work for it. The way he would scream from it would be absolutely delicious.

And it wouldn't just be the brand. He'd remove Dagur's name as well. He couldn't possibly leave anything from Dagur on him if he wanted him to be his.

Then he'd brand him, on the face, probably. He'd want it to be visible, for everyone to know that Hiccup belonged to him. After that was done, while he still had him tied up, he'd shove needles into him, to map out the sensitive parts of his body. Of course, there was a simple way to do that without causing him pain, but he _wanted_ to cause him pain.

Viggo found his hand slipping under the waistband of his pants as he imagined that: Hiccup naked, tied to a table with blood on him, his crest burned into his face, crying out as each needle pierced him. He sighed a little as he stroked himself, as he imagined where he would put each needle. Hiccup wouldn't just feel pain from him though - he'd feel pleasure too. He'd touch his cock and stroke it to hardness, begin to train his body to associate pain with sex, to train him to like it. He figured he wouldn't have to train his body to become aroused easily. It had been clear that that was already done. Hiccup hadn't wanted his touch, but he'd become aroused nonetheless, and so he'd become aroused though he was in pain.

Once finished with the needles, Viggo would make Hiccup cum, would listen to all the lovely noises he would make at that. There would be no reason for Hiccup to be quiet this time, no reason to keep what he was feeling a secret. Perhaps he'd even scream.

Then Viggo would untie him, pull him off the table and make him get on his knees in front of him. He'd make him take his cock into his throat. He'd wanted him to do that before when he'd visited him, but Hiccup would have surely bitten him at the time, and besides, he had needed him to speak. Hiccup wouldn't bite him now, after he'd caused him so much pain. He'd be good and obedient and do as he said.

Viggo groaned a little, pulled his length free from his clothing, finding it much too confining. He pumped himself quickly as he thought of Hiccup, trying to imagine what his mouth would feel like on him. And after he was satisfied with that he'd take him again, but he wouldn't be gentle about it. He'd take him with the ferocity that he'd wanted to do it with before, a brutality that hopefully rivaled Dagur's, that would leave Hiccup crying and shaking underneath him. He'd finish inside him to claim him as his once again. He imagined that Hiccup would probably climax again. That was what his body liked, what it knew how to do.

Viggo gasped as he reached his end, pumped himself through it. When it was done he let go, let his hand rest beside him, panting a little. He'd have to clean up now, but he didn't move to do so, exhaustion finally beginning to creep in on his mind. It seemed he'd be able to sleep now.

 _Thank you, my dear, Hiccup,_ he thought, a lazy smile spreading his lips. _Thank you._

 

The lights reappeared at midmorning, this time to the east of the island. The moon was setting now, halfway beneath the blackness of the water, and its reflection upon the waves made the ships a little more visible. Stoick couldn't stand the waiting anymore, so he ordered an aerial attack. Berk's fleet was currently useless in this.

The Dragon Riders managed to take out a few ships with well-placed blasts of fire, but shooting made them stand out in the dark, made them easy targets. A few of their dragons took Dragon Root arrows before Stoick ordered for them to pull back. Luckily, there were no injuries, but the little skirmish had still proven that they were stuck. Stoick would have to wait for the sun to rise in the late afternoon to see if it was even worth forming a real attack. Viggo's odd strategy that he still couldn't figure out had made one thing clear: they were under siege.

 

Hiccup looked up from his book as Dagur entered the tent, scowled. The chief had told him that he'd most likely be gone all day, but based on the pinkish light of the sunrise streaming in from outside, it was late afternoon.

"What is it, Dagur?" he asked in clear annoyance. He hadn't exactly been fighting him, didn't have the strength to, but he hadn't been cooperating either. Luckily Dagur had yet to hurt him for it, was still letting him heal from the punishment he'd doled out for trying to escape.

"My men intercepted a message from Berk."

Hiccup bristled at the mention of Berk and having intercepted more of their mail. If only there was someway for Hiccup to make sure that the true messages got sent on, not the ones that Dagur had tampered with.

"And?" His voice was cold. He shut his book, placed it down on the cot beside him.

Dagur held up a piece of paper, the message no doubt, and studied it, looking confused. "Well, I don't know what the Hel it means." Then he came over to the side of the cot, carefully stepping over Hiccup's chain, and turned it to show him.

Hiccup tried to keep his expressions under control as dread stabbed him in the stomach. It was the symbol he and the other Dragon Riders used to show that they were in trouble, in deep trouble, and needed reinforcements, but it wasn't just one of the symbols. It was drawn all over the page.

 _Viggo must have reached Dragon's Edge_ , he realized. That was the only possible thing that could mean. Guilt crawled up and clawed at him, tried to drag him down into a pit, but he somehow managed to shake it off for the time being. He made himself meet Dagur's eyes.

"Dagur, you have to send it on." He wanted the words to come out evenly, so as not to betray his emotion, but his voice shook. "Don't change a single thing about it. Just send it on to Heather and Astrid."

"Why? What does it mean?"

Hiccup opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again. What was he supposed to say? If he told Dagur what it meant he wouldn't send it, and if he didn't tell him he still wouldn't send it. How was he supposed to win this?

Hiccup got up on his knees to be level with Dagur, buried his disgust, and kissed him on the mouth. "Please, Dagur."

Dagur shook his head a little. "No, no, Hiccup, don't do that." Hiccup was afraid he would step away and out of his reach, but he didn't move. 

"Why not?" Hiccup took Dagur's face in his hands, kissed him again. The contact was arousing him, but maybe that was okay. He could use that. He pulled back, looked at him from under his lashes because he knew that would drive Dagur crazy. "Come on. Just send it."

Dagur violently pulled away from him, stepping out of his reach. "Stop it, Hiccup. I know what you're trying to do. How about you tell me what it means or I tear it up?" He took the paper in both hands, ready to do it, and Hiccup began to panic.

"No, Dagur, please! You can't!" He crawled off the cot and onto his knees. "I-I'm begging you." It hurt inside to say that, but Dagur liked in when he begged. He didn't move any closer to Dagur though, fearing that he would tear it if he did. He just looked up at him pleadingly.

"Oh, you're begging me?"

"Yes."

"Is that all you're going to do?"

"I'll ride you," Hiccup said quickly. He hadn't done that in a while, and he'd never willingly volunteered to do it. Each time he had Dagur had ordered him to.

Dagur lowered the paper. "Okay, how about this? If you can manage to cum while riding me, I'll send it on without asking what it means. If you can't manage it you have to tell me and then I get to decide if I send it or not. Understood?"

 _Oh shit._ That was something Hiccup had never been able to do. How would he be able to do it now that he had this hanging over him? He nodded anyway. There was nothing else he could do.

"Don't just nod, Hiccup. Say it."

"Yes, Dagur. I understand."

"Good boy." Dagur went and put the paper down on the table, and Hiccup felt a little better with it out of his hands. "Now come here."

Hiccup shed his robe and his dignity, then crawled over to Dagur, who was hurriedly undoing his belt. He didn't have to be told what to do, and soon his cock was in his mouth. He wanted to cry. With his attempt at escape, he'd been so hopeful that he'd never have to do this again of his own volition, yet here he was sucking Dagur almost hungrily, stroking him with his good hand. Dagur's fingers ran through his hair and he moaned praise to him.

Then he was sitting in one of the chairs and pulling Hiccup into his lap by his collar. Hiccup looped his arms around the back of Dagur’s neck to keep himself from falling, and the chief shoved three fingers into his mouth. Hiccup was quick to begin sucking and coating them in saliva, closing his eyes as he did so. The oil had yet to be replaced and this was all he was going to get as lubricant.

“There’s a good little whore,” Dagur breathed. The words made Hiccup’s face burn, and he found himself digging the nails of his left hand into Dagur’s flesh. Dagur hissed out a breath, but there was no retaliation. Then he pulled his fingers from his mouth, was groping them between the cheeks of his ass. Hiccup couldn’t help moaning as one entered him.

“That good for you, baby?” Dagur asked, clutching at his ass with his other hand to keep him where he was.

Hiccup hated this, but he needed Dagur to send on that message. Maybe he could still get him to send it even if he didn’t cum while riding him. Maybe if he just did what he said, gave him what he wanted…

“Yes, Dagur.”

“Chief,” Dagur corrected.

Hiccup wanted to stab Dagur and then himself, but there was nothing available for him to use. 

“Yes, chief.”

At his words, Dagur inserted a second finger, and Hiccup’s body loved it. It tried to move backwards onto them, impale itself further, but Dagur’s other hand held him firmly in place. He had yet to touch his prostate, but pleasure was burning through him anyway. Maybe he _would_ be able to climax like this.

Dagur’s mouth sought out his and he opened it for him, accepted his tongue. He couldn’t fight him this time. Whatever he wanted he would get.

Hiccup moaned into his mouth as his third finger slid into place inside of him, and then he was delving further, pushing his fingers in down to the last joint, stroking against his prostate. It still hurt a little when he did that, but the pain was no match for the pleasure. Dagur pulled away from his mouth, let him release his voice into open air.

“You want my cock?”

“Yes, chief,” Hiccup gasped out without hesitation. If he shut off his mind and let his body do the talking for him, he’d be fine. His body didn’t care who this was and that he was disgusted by it.  
All it cared about was how it felt, and it felt _good_.

Then Dagur was withdrawing his fingers, using both hands to lift Hiccup up and then lower him carefully onto his length. His voice moaned, his body arching into it; his mind thrashed and screamed.

He was moving before Dagur told him to, though it was hard with just his one foot on the ground to use as leverage.

“Dagur, I’m kind of-” gasp- “at a disadvantage.”

“Hm, you are, aren’t you?” Dagur grabbed him by the backs of his thighs with bruising fingers, stood and lifted him up. Hiccup clutched at him as he carried him over to the cot, Dagur managing to stay in him. Then he sat on the cot and Hiccup had enough space to put his knees on either side of him, and he used them to move himself swiftly over his length, his cock rubbing uncomfortably against the armor on his stomach, but his body managed to find pleasure in that as well. 

“There you go, darling.” Dagur’s voice was gravelly, and his hands traveled over the bandages on his back. “That’s it. Work for daddy.”

Dagur moaned with him as he alternated between bouncing and rocking, each movement trickling liquid fire into his nerves. He wanted to move faster, harder, to make himself cum, but if he did that then Dagur would surely cum first, and he’d have to tell him what the message meant.

Hiccup released Dagur with his left hand, brought it down to touch himself. If he did that he’d climax like this.

“Ah-ah! _No_ ,” Dagur scolded, grabbing onto his wrist. “No touching yourself.”

“But, Dagur-”

“No. You don’t need anyone touching your dick to cum.”

Dagur was right in any other circumstance, but now he was sure he needed someone to touch him. He doubted he could climax while riding him if he wasn’t touched there. His body knew pleasure, but it also knew that this was wrong and worse than the times Dagur took control.

“ _Please_.”

“Maybe if you look at me while doing it.”

Hiccup whined a little in despair, but opened his eyes anyway. His movements slowed when he met his gaze, and it felt like all of him rather than just his face was heating with shame and embarrassment. Dagur let go of his wrist, but he didn’t move it down like he’d wanted to originally. He felt almost frozen looking at him.

“Hiccup, don’t slow down.”

Hiccup sped up again at his words. He went to touch himself, but only grasped his cock, unable to pleasure himself with Dagur staring so intently. He closed his eyes, but that was rewarded with a hard smack to his rear, so he opened them again.

“Babe, I said you could touch yourself if you were looking at me.”

Hiccup drew his hand away, clutched at Dagur’s shoulder instead. “I-I can’t.”

Then Dagur was touching his cock for him and he gave a cry, titled his head back. Lips pressed against his throat above the collar, then teeth began to nibble. Hiccup’s body moved desperately into the contact, increasing the pace and ferocity of his hips. Dagur moaned loudly against his skin.

Time passed and the pleasure built, boiling madly and ready to spill over, but it didn’t happen. Hiccup was stuck on the verge of climax like he once again had a rod in him that was blocking it. 

_No, no, come on!_

He worked madly on Dagur. He had to cum. He had to cum _first_ or the message wouldn’t get sent on. His tribe would probably die if he didn’t do this.

Hiccup held in screams as he continued to move, knowing that the sound would make Dagur finish before him. It was difficult. He just wanted to scream out of pure, maddening frustration. He had to do this. He _had_ to.

_Come on! Just think of something!_

That something happened to be Astrid. He imagined that it was her pleasuring him like this, that she had one hand in him and the other around his cock. He pictured her naked body, and when Dagur kissed him he imagined that it was her lips on his, her tongue delving desperately into his mouth. And when that didn’t work he pretended that the wetness on his mouth was the sweet spot between her legs. He missed using his mouth to pleasure her like that, so that’s what he pretended he was doing. He could almost hear the sounds she would make.

Then finally, _finally_ , he was cumming, climbing over the crest of his pleasure and tumbling down the other side. He pulled his mouth away to shout as fire flickered and throbbed through his body. He clutched Dagur tightly at the peak of it, ground himself down hard, let his eyes roll back. Dagur finished soon after with a curse and a yell of his name.

For a long while neither of them moved, just trying to catch their breath, to come back from the haze of it. Then Dagur began to kiss him sloppily on the mouth between breaths. Hiccup even kissed back a little. He didn’t know if Dagur would stay true to his terms if he stopped cooperating at the moment. He’d only stop cooperating once he knew the message was on its way.

“Okay, Hiccup, I’ll send it on to Heather,” Dagur said. 

“Really?”

Dagur pulled away and nodded. “I stay true to my word… sometimes…”

“Yeah, only sometimes,” Hiccup agreed, trying to work amusement into his voice. He couldn’t tell if it worked or not. Though, it didn’t matter because then Dagur released him, let him move off of him. 

It suddenly hit Hiccup just how exhausted he was. He still wasn’t fully recovered from everything and he hadn’t had a whole lot of energy to begin with. He laid down on his side, not bothering to reach for his robe to put it back on. Dagur stroked a hand over the runes in his right thigh, leaned over and kissed him on the side of his face. Then he was pulling the blankets over him, and Hiccup almost thanked him for it. As he fell asleep, he wondered if Dagur really would stay true to his word, but there was nothing he could do if he didn’t. He would just have to trust him for once in his life.


	62. Chapter 61

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm ready for you all to kill me.

For Snoggletog, Heather and Astrid received Terror Mail from Dragon's Edge. Astrid hurriedly unrolled the message, the Terrible Terror perching on her shoulder. She hoped it would be good news: a message saying that they'd gotten a lead on finding Hiccup, or even better, they'd actually found him. Thorn had yet to reveal anything, and hopefully they wouldn't need him to. Hope wasn't what she was met with when she looked at the page.

"Oh dear Thor," she breathed. There was fire drawn all over the page. Dragon's Edge was in trouble. Looking at how many symbols there were, she knew that was putting it lightly.

"What is it?" Heather asked, coming to stand by her side. She looked at the paper, furrowed her brow, clearly not understanding what it meant. "Astrid, what is all that?"

"Dragon's Edge is in trouble," Astrid said quickly. "We have a code that we use sometimes." She tapped at the paper. "This one means they're being overwhelmed and need help, but usually just one symbol is used for that, so this means that they _seriously_ need help."

"What do we do?" Heather asked. 

"Well we have to go to them," Astrid said. "And take the Berserkers with us. They said they would help Berk, so now they're going to."

"What about Thorn?" Heather asked.

"I suppose we could take him with us." Astrid almost said it as a question. She wasn't sure. Would they just keep him on one of the boats? 

"Actually, that's a good idea." Heather smirked a little. "I'm sure he'd love to meet Stoick. If anyone's going to get him to speak I'm sure it'll be him."

Astrid nodded. That would work. Let Thorn face the wrath of Hiccup's father.

"Wait, the fleet will take longer to get there than we will," Astrid realized. "But we can't just linger back with them. Dragon's Edge needs help now."

"I'll put Hilda in charge of the fleet," Heather said. "I trust her."

"Okay. Now we should call the council and get to work."

Hand-in-hand, Astrid and Heather headed for the throne room, the Terrible Terror still perched on Astrid's shoulder.

 

Snotlout received a kiss from Tuffnut and orders from Stoick for Snoggletog. The Dragon Riders were to attack the Dragon Hunters where a conflagration of lights had come to life on the Northern side of the Edge, the spot they'd originally approached from. Snotlout thought that attacking without the reinforcements of Heather, Astrid, and the Berserkers wasn't a very good idea, but he hadn't mentioned that to Stoick. The constant on and off of the lights in different locations was starting to drive him wild with frustration.

Snotlout clutched tight to Hookfang's horns as he headed for the ships, Fishlegs on his right, Ruffnut and Tuffnut on his left. The auxiliary riders were close behind them. Stoick was in the lead.

Soon, the lights from the ships weren't the only thing illuminating the darkness, and Snotlout had to duck out of the way of a flaming boulder launched from a catapult. When he righted himself, he had to dodge a volley of arrows, but they didn't come from the lighted ships, rather, from the darkness beside them.

 _I knew this was a bad idea!_ He almost shouted it out loud, but didn't. He veered to the side, towards the darkness. There were definitely ships out of his sight down there. 

He and Hookfang dodged more arrows, but then the dragon let loose a blast, and one of the hidden ships came to light in flame. It was just a longship, and so it wasn't unable to withstand another shot from Hookfang. It tilted in the water, began to sink. He watched as men, unsure of what to do, jumped into the frigid depths of the sea, deciding to die by ice rather than fire.

"Woohoo!" Snotlout pumped his fist, but his excitement at the small victory was short lived. More arrows came at him from the blackness, and he quickly yanked Hookfang up and away from them. Even more came at him, trying to drive him back towards the lighted ships, the giant warships that were harder to fight.

"Dammit!" Looking around, he saw that the other Riders were in a similar position, being corralled by arrows back towards the larger ships that were harder to take down. Once there, they were met with flaming boulders from catapults, not even having time to get in any semblance of a formation.

"Pull back!" The shout came from Stoick. There was frustration in it, anger. He clearly didn't want to be defeated like this. None of them did.

They turned tail and fled back to the Edge.

 

For Snoggletog, Hiccup received a real gift from Dagur. He was woken by him gently shaking him.

"Hey, Hiccup, wake up." Dagur's voice was soft for once.

"Mm, what is it?" He didn't open his eyes, wasn't in the mood to be awake and face the day. A new day just meant new torment.

"I got you something for Snoggletog," Dagur said.

Hiccup had it in him to frown. He'd entirely forgotten about that, had forgotten that he'd be spending it with Dagur instead of his friends and family. He wanted to cry, but he couldn't summon tears. He'd cried enough for one lifetime as it was. He didn't have to cry now.

"Dagur, I swear if I look and it's you with a bow tied on your dick, I'm not gonna be happy."

"Come on, Hiccup. Really? You think I would...? Actually, that's a pretty good idea. Why didn't I think of that? I guess I can do it for your birthday." He laughed and Hiccup bristled. "But honest, it's a real gift. So get up and let me give it to you."

"Fine." Hiccup sat up and opened his eyes, yawned a little. "What is it?" He tried his best not to snap it. Dagur was standing by the cot, smiling widely, seeming genuinely eager. It almost reminded him of a dragon excited to show him something, and he hated it. It would be easier to constantly think of Dagur as a monster if he looked more like one all the time. He held something clutched to his chest, and once Hiccup was a little more situated in being awake, he handed it to him. It was a leather bound journal.

"To replace the one that I originally gave you that you burned," Dagur explained. "And you'll like this. I promise I won't ever touch it, look at it, or draw anything in it. It's solely yours."

Hiccup was a little surprised by this. He looked from the journal to Dagur. "Wait, you're serious?"

Dagur nodded. "Absolutely serious. I'm..." His shoulders sagged a little. "I'm sorry about what I did to the last one. It was yours and I shouldn't have touched it."

Hiccup wanted to yell at him, to point out that his body was his as well and he shouldn't touch that either, but then he remembered his brand, remembered that that wasn't true anymore. His body no longer belonged to himself. 

Then he found a little bit of gratitude taking root inside of him. Dagur was actually being kind, had given him something that was truly his, that he could keep and not have to worry about it being taken and used without his permission.

"Thank you." He meant the words. 

Dagur smiled. "You're welcome, Hiccup. Now, did you get anything for me?"

"Um, I... what?" Why would Dagur even expect him to have something for him? He was chained up and-

"I'm just joking!" Dagur waved it off with his hands and laughed. "I don't need anything from you when I _have_ you." He sat beside him, took him in his arms. "You're the greatest gift I could have asked for."

Hiccup nearly hit him. That would have been sweet coming from anyone else, but coming from Dagur it just disgusted and disturbed him. Dagur kissed the side of his face, his neck where it wasn't hidden by the collar, pressed his nose to him and inhaled deeply. "Love you, Hiccup."

Hiccup said nothing to this. There was nothing to say. Dagur knew he didn't love him, knew that he hated him. And there was still nothing to say as Dagur took the journal from his hands and tossed it aside, then pushed him onto his back and pulled the blankets off of him. He never listened when he told him to stop, so he wouldn't say it anymore. There was no point. 

He didn't speak, but he cried as Dagur took him, silently, surprised that the tears came. This wasn't how he was supposed to spend Snoggletog. He was supposed to spend it with Toothless, his dad, and his friends. He was supposed to drink Astrid's yaknog and pretend that it wasn't the worst thing he'd ever tasted. He was supposed to listen to Gobber's terrible, but joyous singing, and enjoy it. He was supposed to attend Berk's feast and dance with Astrid and his friends. He was supposed to kiss Astrid under the mistletoe, give her a gift that he'd labored over for hours. He was supposed to be smiling and laughing, not trapped under a man that said he loved him but kept him chained up. He wasn't supposed to be used like this on this day, wasn't supposed to be crying, yet he was. This wasn't supposed to be his Snoggletog.

 

Hiccup was glad when Dagur left, had been worried that he'd spend the entire day with him. He didn't want that, not on this day. He wanted a lot of things, but the only reasonable one was that he wanted to see Bryn. He wondered if she even knew what Snoggletog was, knew that today was a holiday. He'd have to tell her about it if she didn't, and though it hurt, he'd still find himself smiling when he told her the stories of how he'd spent it in the past years.

He waited, sketching in his journal, filling up the first few pages with nothing but pictures of Toothless, but she didn't show up. Someone he'd never seen before brought him his lunch, and he thanked him and tried to talk to him, but he hurriedly left. Anxiety grew like a weed in his stomach, reaching itself outward into the rest of him. Where was she? And for that matter where was Dagur? Why wasn't he spending the entire day with him? What did he have to do that he somehow found more important than him? It wasn't like Dagur to leave him alone on a day that he deemed worth celebrating. He hadn't on his birthday, so why was he now?

 _Maybe he just doesn't like Snoggletog as much_ , Hiccup figured. Still, something didn't sit right with him. Something _wasn't_ right.

 

Dagur pulled Bryn along after him as he headed back to his tent. She hadn't been too hard to find, and she certainly wasn't hard to manhandle. She was small and was no match for his strength, but for some reason she still fought, still tried pulling herself out of his grip.

"Chief, I-I don't understand! What did I do wrong?!"

"Oh, just shut up," Dagur growled. That was probably the fifth time she'd asked him that. He got back to his tent, yanked her in front of him and shoved her towards one of the guards. "Hold her for a bit and make sure she stays quiet."

The guard easily held her with one hand, the other going over her mouth. Bryn struggled, looked at him with wide eyes. A muffled sound of panic rose from her throat.

Dagur knew what he wanted for Snoggletog. He wanted Hiccup broken, fully broken, and now he had a way of getting that. He went into the tent.

 

"Dagur, what the Hel are you doing?" Hiccup questioned. He'd come into the tent without a word and had grabbed him by the collar, dragging him out of his chair and onto the ground. In his other hand he held a rope.

"Just give me a minute and you'll see." There was anger in his voice. What had happened? What had changed while he'd been out? 

Hiccup clawed at his hand as he dragged him backwards across the ground towards the pole in the center of the tent, the tugging on the collar choking him. Then Dagur let go of him, and he would have crawled away, but he was too focused on breathing. One end of the rope was tied to the back of his collar as he gasped and choked, the other going around the pole. Then his wrists were grabbed violently in one hand, the other tearing at the sash of his robe and pulling it away from him. He struggled, kicked out with his foot, but the chain weighed him down and he missed. Soon, Dagur had successfully bound his hands in front of him, and panic truly set in. What did he need him so restrained for?

"Dagur, what is it? What are you doing?" He wanted an answer from him, _needed_ one. Panic and dread lit heat into his stomach, flooded his veins with it. He got his knees under him, pulled at the bindings on his wrists.

"I'm getting my Snoggletog gift," Dagur told him, words cold, menacing.

"But I thought- thought you didn't need anything from me. Please, _please_ tell me what's going on!" He brought up his bound hands, tugged at his collar though he knew it was useless. It was literally sewn onto him, and there was no way he was getting it off.

Dagur didn't respond, stomping out of the tent. Hiccup struggled some more, vainly attempting to get free. Then he stopped, realizing that it was useless. What was the point of trying to get free from these bonds when they weren't the only ones on him?

Just as he'd given up, Dagur came back into the tent, pulling someone behind him. Hiccup's eyes popped out as they came into the light of the brazier and the lanterns. Dread twisted its cruel knife in his stomach and didn't stop twisting.

"Hm, so I'd say you do know her," Dagur said with a satisfied smirk, yanking Bryn, who gave a startled yelp, right up against him. He only needed one hand to hold her, and in the other he held a knife. He pointed it at Hiccup, directing his next words at Bryn. "So you know him too, right?"

"Dagur, stop it!" Hiccup shouted, finding his voice. Ideas of what Dagur was about to do ran through his mind at a staggering pace. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't _actually_ be happening. "Let her go! Keep her out of this!"

Dagur laughed. "Keep her out of it? Keep her _out_ of it?! Hiccup, you're the one who brought her into it!"

"No! No, I didn't! I-" Hiccup faltered, inhaled shakily. He looked to Bryn. Her face had gone white with terror and tears streaked her face. She wasn't fighting to get away anymore. "Bryn, I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He didn't know what he was apologizing for, but he felt like he had to do it. "I'm sorry."

"What are you apologizing to her for?" Dagur gave her a shake and Bryn whimpered. "Maybe because she did something wrong and you didn't tell her?"

"H-Hiccup, what is he talking about?"

"I'm sorry! I didn't-"

"Didn't tell her that she's not supposed to touch you, did you?" Dagur interrupted. There was a furious light in his eyes. "And she did touch you, didn't she?"

"I didn't... I..." Hiccup didn't know what to say. He looked between Bryn's gaze and Dagur's, one terrified and tear-filled, the other furious and ready to kill. He couldn't argue that he hadn't known about that. He'd known that no one was supposed to touch him unless Dagur gave permission, that it was illegal. He hadn't told Bryn because he hadn't wanted to scare her, and he'd been so desperate for contact that wasn't from Dagur. Whatever was about to happen was on him.

"Did she touch you?!" Dagur yelled. "Answer or I'll cut her." He held the knife against the side of Bryn's face and she sobbed.

"Please, I don't understand, I don't understand!" she begged.

"Answer me, Hiccup!"

"She did, she did!" he yelled. "Dagur, just let her go! Please!"

Dagur, of course, didn't listen to him. The blade slid against Bryn's face, set blood flowing, and she screamed. Hiccup felt like he was cut right along with her.

"Dagur, you said you wouldn't! Please!" He tried throwing himself forward, but the rope held him back, the collar pressing tightly against his throat, choking him. He tugged at it with his hands. He had to get free, had to help Bryn.

"How far did it go?" Dagur asked, voice suddenly quiet again.

"W-we kissed," Hiccup answered, and the words earned Bryn another cut to her face. Saying nothing wouldn't have changed the outcome.

"Chief, please stop! I don't understand!" She was fighting against him again, but Hiccup knew it would get nowhere.

"It's okay. It's not your fault Hiccup didn't tell you that it's illegal for anyone but me to touch him."

Bryn looked to Hiccup, lip trembling. Blood trickled down her face, her neck. "What?"

"H-he's telling the truth." Hiccup's words almost turned into a sob. He was crying too, fast, the taste of salt getting in his mouth. "I didn't tell you. I should have told you. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Dagur, just let her go. Let her _go_."

"You didn't do anything but kiss, did you?" Dagur asked.

Hiccup hurriedly shook his head. "No, no, of course not! That was it! Please, Dagur! I swear! Don't take it out on her! It's not her fault!" He pulled desperately on his collar. "It's not her fault! It's mine, it's mine!"

"But Hiccup, the only way to really punish you is to take it out on her. That's what it is with you. You see, I figured it out." He pointed at him with his knife, Bryn's blood dripping off of it, and Hiccup flinched like he meant to use it on him. Maybe he did. "You don't care if you get hurt. You're stupid like that. You care about other people, and hurting them hurts you more than anything else, isn't that right?"

 _No, no, no, no, no._ "Dagur, please! I-I get it. I'm sorry! I won't let her touch me again. I won't! She'll never touch me again! I _promise!_ "

"Well, you are right about that part." Dagur suddenly dropped the knife, grabbed at Bryn's jaw. Hiccup met her eyes, drowned in the pure terror in them. His mouth moved to plead with Dagur, but nothing came out. It felt like his insides were turning to liquid.

Dagur snapped Bryn's neck.


	63. Chapter 62

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cried while writing this.

" _NO! NO! NO-O-O!_ " Hiccup screamed so hard he was surprised his vocal chords weren't torn out by it. Something inside of him had snapped with Bryn's neck, had snapped so hard and painfully that he didn't know how he was still breathing. "BRYN! _BRYN!_ "

Dagur dropped her, and she was within reach of him. He crawled as far as the rope would let him, grabbed desperately at one of her limp hands. She couldn't be dead, she _couldn't be dead_.

"Bryn, Bryn! Come on! _Please!_ You're not dead, _you're not dead! Come on!_ "

She didn't move. Her blue eyes stared up at him, and they were empty. So, so _empty._

" _NO!_ " Hiccup gripped her hand tightly, kept screaming, tearing his voice out of him like it would somehow bring life back into her. Every once in a while her name interspersed his shrieks. He felt like his sides were going to split. Something inside of him had broken straight down the middle, and more cracks formed in him with each second that passed, with each second that Bryn was dead. _Dead._

Hands grabbed at him, Dagur, pulling him away from her body.

" _No! No! Bryn!_ Let go of me! Let go of _me-e-e! BRYN!_ "

He lost his grip on her, touched her hand for the last time. He shattered.

Dagur took him as he screamed and shouted his voice out, as he cried so much he was nearly drowning in his own tears. And Bryn laid there, lifeless on the ground, just out of his reach, body probably beginning to go cold. There was a real pain that was overtaking his entire body, that was trying to swallow him.

Over his own voice he heard Dagur shouting at him, shouting that this was all his fault and his fault only, that he deserved it.

_It's my fault, it's my fault, it's my fault._

_No, no, no, Bryn. No._

That's all his thoughts were. He couldn't make sense of what was happening. Bryn was dead and it was his fault. She was dead. She was _dead_.

He wanted to deny it, to tell himself it wasn't true, but it was impossible to deny the truth when it was staring at him with eyes that were no longer there. _She_ was no longer there.

Hiccup screamed and cried until he couldn't anymore, until his voice stopped working for him. He kept trying anyway, body heaving and aching, his tears still coming, coming so fast it was like they would never stop. He tried moving away from Dagur - to take Bryn's hand again, to hold it and somehow try to comfort himself, to will life and warmth back into her - but one hand was crushing his hip, and the other went to the back of his collar and tugged until he couldn't breathe. He didn't care, kept trying anyway. Black spots speckled his vision.

Hiccup gave up. He sagged into the ground, body racked with sobs that he wished weren't silent, his mouth still open and attempting to scream.

He could feel each broken piece of himself, lying on the ground around Bryn's body, over the break in her neck, and each fragment brought a pain like he wouldn't believe. He wanted to die right then and there, didn't want to take his next breath because all it would bring was more agony, but he kept breathing, and the anguish continued, rose and rose until he felt like he was breaking again. And maybe he was. Maybe he had. Maybe he wasn't done breaking. Maybe he just broke with each second that passed, each tortured moment that he'd brought upon himself. He _had_ brought it upon himself. This was his fault. _His fault_. _Bryn_ was _dead_ because of him.

He somehow found enough of his voice to shriek once more. Then he was silent, and his tears stopped coming. He'd run out of them. There wasn't enough to represent his pain, and crying wouldn't take it out of him. His tears didn't matter.

Nothing mattered.

 

Dagur looked at Hiccup, laying motionless on the ground as if he'd killed him and not the slave girl, as if it was his own neck that had been snapped and the breath eternally taken out of him. He nudged him with his boot and he whimpered a little, but didn't say anything, didn't move or acknowledge him. His eyes were locked on the slave girl.

Dagur bent and grabbed her body by the wrist, glanced at Hiccup to see if he would move, if he would protest, but there was nothing from him. Satisfied, he dragged her body to the entrance of the tent, dumped it outside in the snow at the feet of the guards.

"Get rid of that," he ordered. "Throw it in the woods for the animals to eat for all I care." Then he went back inside and over to Hiccup, crouched down and began to untie him. He still didn't move. It was like he was handling a dead body.

Dagur was concerned that he'd gone into shock, but Hiccup wasn't shaking and his skin wasn't cold to the touch. He was breathing, but if not for that he would have seemed dead.

Dagur cleaned him off and even put his robe back on him, then took him over to the cot. He expected Hiccup to lay down, to just flop over like there was a weight tugging on him, but he sat, sat and stared at nothing.

Dagur was sure that this time he was truly broken, that there would be no putting himself back together after this. He'd gotten what he wanted.

 

Hiccup was silent after. He sat and stared and didn't speak. He didn't know if he had a voice to speak with, but it didn't matter if he did. He didn't want to talk. He couldn't. There were no words in him, none at all.

He was grateful that Dagur didn't seem to want anything else from him, didn't want him to talk. He just sat next to him and rubbed his hands over his arms as if he was cold and trying to warm him up. Hiccup let him. There was nothing to do but let him.

Eventually, exhaustion hit him, and he wanted to lay back, but Dagur moved so that he was resting against him. He didn't care. He didn't care about the way his body was resting against his, didn't care that he was holding him. He couldn't find it in himself to care about anything. He was too tired to care. He was done. Just done. The breaking inside of him had stopped. It’d stopped because there was nothing left to break. Each shattered piece of himself had just turned into dust, dust that had coated Bryn’s body and had been taken outside with her. He had wanted to tell Dagur to treat her body properly, respectfully, to put it on a boat and burn it to give her a rightful send-off to Valhalla, but there was no point. Dagur wouldn’t have listened to him. He never had, and now Hiccup realized that he never would, so he hadn’t said anything, wouldn’t say anything.

And as he laid against Dagur he was also in the woods with Bryn’s body, was laying unfeeling and unseeing in the snow, was waiting for the carrion birds to come peck at him and devour him, was waiting for time to turn him to rot and decay, and then eventually nothing but a pile of bones that would be forgotten, buried under snow, driven into the ground by the elements. The snow would thaw and there would be nothing there but new, green grass, nothing there to mark their shared grave, nothing there that mattered. She was gone and would be gone again. He was gone with her.

Aesthetic done by [ultimatefandomtrash61](http://ultimatefandomtrash61.tumblr.com/post/168706875914), aka, my sister!

Aesthetic done by [marianas-art-world](https://marianas-art-world.tumblr.com/post/168828256291/this-is-a-gift-for-my-two-dear-friends)!


	64. Chapter 63

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope I still have some readers after Bryn's death. Believe me, it hurt me too guys, but it was necessary. I created her to die, but that didn't mean she didn't matter as a character to me. I'm going to miss writing scenes with her. I told myself not to fall in love with her character, but I did. I wasn't immune to her sweet and innocent charm, and I'm going to miss her.

Heather became anxious on the flight to Dragon’s Edge. Well, she’d been anxious before, but she was growing more anxious. She was wearing loose clothing, but looking at herself she could still see the changes to her body, could see that her breasts had gotten bigger and there was a roundness in her abdomen. Her friends would certainly be able to tell that she was pregnant.

“Heather, you’re slowing down,” Astrid called from where she was now in front of her. She slowed Stormfly to fly next to her. “What’s wrong?”

Heather glanced at her, feigning surprise. “What? Nothing’s wrong.”

Astrid gave her a look that clearly said she didn’t believe her.

“Okay, okay, yeah, something’s wrong.” She sighed, looked down at her baby bump, then back at Astrid. She gestured to her abdomen. “I’m not gonna be able to hide this,” she said dismally. “They’ll know.”

Astrid frowned. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that too,” she admitted. She sighed heavily. “There’s not really anything you can do about it.”

Heather looked down at the water far below them, idly wondering if a fall into it from this height would kill her. She’d never do it of course, but it was just something that crossed her mind.

“Yeah, but what do I say about the father? They’re going to want to know.” She looked back to Astrid, who was now looking a little uncomfortable.

“I mean, we all kind of guessed that you and Dagur…” She trailed off. She didn’t have to say the rest of that. “And none of us judged you for it. I don’t think they’ll judge you for this.”

Heather didn’t like the thought that her relationship with Dagur had been obvious, but if her friends had already guessed it, it could make this part easier. Still: “What if they do judge me?”

“I don’t think they will,” Astrid told her. “I’ve known these guys forever. Will they be kind of weirded out? Yeah. Will they hate you? Definitely not. They’ll support you, Heather, just like I’ve supported you. You’ll be fine.”

“Thanks, Astrid.” Heather found it in herself to smile a little. She had needed to hear that, and she actually believed her. These people were her friends and wouldn’t turn on her. She gave Windshear a gentle squeeze with her thighs, a signal to speed up, and she did. They’d reach Dragon’s Edge by morning.

 

Astrid was stunned upon reaching Dragon’s Edge. Even in the dark she could tell that it wasn’t the same island that she had left. There were walls and watchtowers surrounding most of it, and guards patrolling the walls. She couldn’t see very far below, but she figured that Berk’s fleet was docked there too. 

Though, it struck her as odd that the island looked relatively peaceful. She’d been expecting to find it burning, under catapult fire, in the midst of battle, but there was nothing. She couldn’t even see an enemy.

She went to fly over one of the walls towards the clubhouse, Heather close behind, but was stopped by a female voice from atop the wall.

“Oi! Who goes there?”

She stopped Stormfly to hover near the wall so the guard could see her in the light of the torches. “Astrid Hofferson and Heather, Chief of the Berserkers,” she called down.

“Oh, thank Odin.” The woman looked and sounded relieved. “Will there be more help on the way?”

Heather came up beside Astrid. “The Berserker fleet is a few days out,” she answered.

“Stoick will be happy to hear of this,” the woman said. “He’s in the clubhouse.”

“Thank you!” With that, Astrid and Heather flew over the wall and to the clubhouse. They landed, hopped off their dragons, and went inside. As the guard had said, Stoick was there, and so were the Dragon Riders. Heather’s hand slipped quickly into hers and she gave it a reassuring squeeze, could feel the anxiety and fear coming off of her.

For a moment nothing happened, but then they were being overwhelmed by the Dragon Riders, enveloped in a crushing group hug. Astrid had to let go of Heather’s hand to hug them all back. It felt good to be around them again.

“Astrid, Heather, thank Thor you’re here!” Snotlout cried, pulling away from the hug. “There’s a _huge_ fleet of Dragon Hunters out there, but you probably can’t see them because it’s so dark.”

“Wait, why aren’t they attacking?” Astrid asked once she and Heather were no longer being crushed by their friends.

“No idea, A,” Tuffnut replied. “They totally could have done it by now.” He was studying Heather. “Do the Berserkers eat better than we do?”

Ruffnut elbowed him in the side. “No, dumbass. Can’t you tell she’s pregnant?”

Tuffnut opened his mouth to say something, all the Dragon Riders’ eyes going to Heather, but she ignored all of them, pushing past them to go to Stoick.

“Stoick, it’s good to see you again.”

“And it’s good that that message made it to you.” They went into their own conversation, and the Riders now looked to Astrid for an explanation.

“Wow, Astrid, why didn’t you guys ever mention in your letters that she was pregnant?” Fishlegs asked. Luckily, there was no negative emotion in his voice, just surprise.

“And who’d she even get with anyway?” Snotlout inquired, crossing his arms.

“Must have been some hot Berserker we don’t know about,” Tuffnut commented. This resulted in Snotlout glaring at him a little. Tuffnut cocked his fingers at him. “Not as hot as you, Snot. Don’t worry.”

Astrid held up her hands to fend off all their questions. “Guys, it’s not my place to answer any of that. We’re gonna have to catch up later. What’s going on here is really serious and this will all just have to wait.”

“Okay, okay, good point,” Ruffnut agreed. “Come on. Let’s go join Heather and Stoick.”

They joined Heather and Stoick at the table. Heather was pointedly not looking at any of them, her face a light shade of pink. Astrid went to her, took her hand under the table. Heather squeezed it, clearly grateful that she was there.

“I’ve never seen a strategy like Viggo’s before,” Stoick said, now talking to Astrid as well. “Every few hours lights from the ships will come on, every time in a different spot. Then if we don’t attack they go out.”

“What happens when you do attack?” Astrid asked.

“It wasn’t good when we did,” Stoick answered with a small shake of his head. “The ships they had lit up were the big war galleons, but flanking them out of sight were longships. The longships kept us corralled in front of the galleons, which, as you know from experience, are much harder to take down. We had to retreat. That was yesterday. Haven’t attacked since.”

Astrid chewed on her lower lip. There was something oddly familiar to her about the strategy, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Had she read about it before? She liked reading about historical military tactics to try and learn from them. Maybe that was it.

“What is it, Astrid?” Stoick inquired, leaning forward.

“I don’t know. Something feels familiar about this.” She sighed, shook her head. “Yeah, I don’t know. I can’t think of what it is right now.”

“Maybe seeing it first hand for a while will help,” Stoick said.

“Maybe.” There were blank sheets of paper scattered on the table, and she grabbed at one. “We should probably send a Terror Mail to the Berserker fleet, let them know to hang back till Heather and I can talk to them in person once they reach us.”

“Are there enough ships to surround the Dragon Hunters?” Stoick asked. “That way they can be stuck between the fleet and the Edge.”

“It would spread them too thin,” Heather answered. “We’ll have to attack in one concentrated area.”

“But then that would give the Dragon Hunters the chance to surround you,” Snotlout piped in. 

Astrid found a piece of charcoal, reached for it, her other hand still holding onto Heather’s. Frustration boiled in her blood. “We’ll have to think of something, but for now we’ll tell the Berserkers to wait.”

She began to write her message, and as she did she thought of how strange the plan was, but how familiar it seemed at the same time. If she could figure out what this feeling was, maybe they’d be able to crack the whole thing and get a victory.

 

Hiccup didn’t talk all the rest of the day or the next morning. He just couldn't, couldn't bring himself to form words, to open his mouth and speak. What was there to say anyway? What was there to say that Dagur would actually _listen_ to and _care_ about?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

And when he kissed him that morning he let him. When he pulled off his robe he let him. He wanted to fight, to hit him and scream, but he couldn't make himself do it. Dagur would hurt him if he did. Dagur might even hurt someone else now that he knew that that was what worked. Hiccup didn't want anyone getting hurt because of him, even if it was some Berserker he didn't know. They didn't deserve that. No one deserved Dagur’s wrath but him.

He was surprised Dagur didn't try to make him talk. He usually wanted conversation or at least a reply to some of the things he said, but he didn't push to get words from him. Maybe he was solely content with the moans and cries he drew from him, content with the way his body moved into him even though he didn't want it to.

And once Dagur was done with him and gone, Hiccup was left in silence. He just laid on his side, not bothering to put his robe back on, unsure of what to do, of what to feel. Sadness gnawed away at him, though there was nothing left to bite off, every bit of himself having surely been destroyed the night before. He'd snapped with Bryn's neck and he didn't care about putting himself back together. He didn't know if he even had enough pieces to work with. He felt sad, but he also felt empty, desolate, like there was nothing left in him. 

Food was brought in by someone who didn't even glance at him, and then hurried out. He didn't care. He didn't move to eat it, wasn't hungry enough to. He wondered how he'd ever eat again, how he'd ever do anything again. He felt like there was a boulder on top of him, crushing the strength out of him. Moving would take strength that he didn't have, and besides, he saw no point to it. There was no point to eating, to trying to sustain his body. Why not just let himself waste away? He wasn't getting anything out of his life, wasn't enjoying it. His life was meaningless, pointless.

Eventually, Hiccup fell asleep with the boulder crushing him and his thoughts drowning him, and when he slept there was nothing but darkness, and he was free.

 

Heather sat nervously at the table with Astrid and the rest of the Dragon Riders. After discussing what had been going on, Stoick had left, understanding that they needed to catch up. They were going to reconvene later to talk about the search for Hiccup.

For a while no one said anything, and the silence was tense and thick. She felt like it was choking her.

Finally, Fishlegs spoke up, tentatively. "So you're really pregnant?"

Heather nodded. "Yeah."

"How far along are you?" Tuffnut asked, leaning forward a little. "Can't be too much seeing as it happened after we last saw you."

"Yeah, but if she was only two months she wouldn't be showing," Ruffnut pointed out, and Heather clenched her hands together in her lap. Sweat beaded at her temples.

"Yeah, um, it's more than two months," Heather said. Her voice came out weaker than she was used to, and she hated it. "Not sure exactly how long. I'm thinking maybe four months."

"Hold on. Four months?" Snotlout furrowed his brows in confusion. "Weren't you still with the Dragon Hunters then?"

"Yeah." She didn't know how to explain. Did she have to? Could she just leave it a mystery who the father was?

"I guess we're all just wondering who the father is," Fishlegs said, poking his forefingers together, seeming nervous to bring up his point. The Dragon Riders nodded in agreement.

Heather suddenly felt nauseous, and anxiety pumped heat through her veins. _Oh Thor. I can't tell them. I can't._

"Um..."

They all leaned forward, all looking at her, waiting for the announcement, and when she'd say it they'd hate her for it, judge her, think her disgusting and awful.

"Guys, Heather doesn't have to tell you who the father is if she doesn't want to," Astrid said, and Heather felt a little relief for it. It quickly sank though. They'd have to know at some point. There was no hiding it forever. Under the table, her hand flew right into Astrid's, and her tight grip was returned.

"No, Astrid, I-I have to tell them. Can't hide it forever." But after she said it she couldn't speak, couldn't make the words come from her mouth.

_Come on. Tell them. What's the worst that's going to happen?_

_They'll hate you. They'll all hate you._

_You can't say anything. You can't-_

"It's Dagur's." She blurted it out in a rush, wondering if maybe they hadn't even understood what she’d said. The Dragon Riders were just looking at her in confusion, so they probably hadn't.

"What?" Snotlout.

Heather wanted to cry. "It's..." She took a deep breath, squeezed Astrid's hand tighter. "Dagur's the father. It's his baby."

She was met with silence. The Dragon Riders looked away from her, glanced towards each other, the table, the walls. Then Fishlegs, still not looking at her just said: "Oh." Then silence took over again.

Heather looked frantically to Astrid, then back to the Dragon Riders, her _friends_. They were still going to be her friends, right?

"Guys, I'm... Please say something."

"I mean, um, that's..." Ruffnut paused, cleared her throat. She was looking at her again, but Heather couldn't make herself meet her eyes. "Different."

"Just different?" Heather's voice was almost a terrified squeak. What were they all thinking of her?

"Well yeah, most people aren't pregnant with their brother's baby." Heather shrank down, and Ruffnut's eyes widened, as if she realized she'd said the wrong thing. "But it's okay! It's okay! Honest! What? Are you expecting me to hate you for it?"

"Yeah, we don't hate you," Fishlegs piped in. "Well, I certainly don't anyway. Don't know how I could."

"Totally don't hate you," Tuffnut agreed.

"Yeah, and come on, it's okay," Snotlout said. "I doubt Dagur gave you a talk on where babies come from before he dropped his pants."

Heather couldn't decide if she should smile or not. The heat was steadily leaving her body, being replaced by the coolness of relief. She let up on her grip on Astrid's hand.

"Thank you, guys," she said a little hoarsely. "I'm... I just..." Her eyes found the table. "I feel stupid for it, like I should have known somehow." That was all she could say. She didn't know how to explain how she felt about Dagur, didn't know how to explain to them why exactly she'd had sex with him. Hel, she couldn't even entirely explain it to herself. She hated having feelings, as they usually didn't make any sense.

"Heather, you're the farthest thing from stupid," Fishlegs assured her. "You can't know something if nobody tells you, you know?"

"Yeah," Ruffnut said. "Don't worry about it, Heather. We'll all be here for you." She laughed a little. "Can't wait to be the kid's crazy aunt."

Heather smiled, looked up again. Astrid had told her she'd get this support from them, but she hadn't exactly expected it. It felt good. She wasn't used to having people be there for her. Though, she grew nervous again when she saw Tuffnut staring intently at the table and tapping his chin in thought.

"Tuff, what is it?"

"So Dagur's gonna be the uncle and the father at the same time technically..." Tuffnut mused. "So what does the kid call him? Uncle dad?"

Heather nearly laughed before she remembered that she wanted to kill Dagur, slit his throat and chop him to pieces.

"They won't be calling him anything," she said lowly, the mood going dark. "He'll be dead, and hopefully before they're born."

That drove the Dragon Riders to quiet once again.

"Good point," Snotlout said. He put a hand on the table, clenched it into a fist. "That bastard needs to die for what he's doing to Hiccup."

"Uh..." Fishlegs had apparently grown uncomfortable with the conversation. "I'm not really for killing anybody."

"Seriously?" Ruffnut asked in astonishment. "Not even Dagur? You're gonna want to just let him go after what he's done?" Her voice had risen in anger, and she was now standing from her stool. "That's Hiccup he has, Fishlegs! You've been friends with him longer than any of us! You're saying you wouldn't kill to save him?!"

"Come on, Ruff, really?" Fishlegs stood now too. "I'm mad at him! By Odin, I'm beyond _furious_ , but I can't _kill_ someone!"

Snotlout didn't seem fazed by the argument. He just crossed his arms. "Well I'll definitely kill him if I get the chance. That asshole deserves to die. He deserves worse."

Tuffnut pointed a thumb at Snotlout. "Yeah, I'm with Snotman."

"Guys, can we not argue about what we're going to do to Dagur just yet?" Heather asked. "We haven't even found him. We've talked, so we should probably call Stoick back in here and see what's what."

"Fine." Ruffnut sat back down, hard. Fishlegs sat more gently.

"I'll go get him," Astrid offered. She let go of Heather's hand, a slight reluctance to it, and rose. "And Heather, you have the maps in your saddlebag, right?"

Heather nodded, and Astrid left the clubhouse. They once again sat in silence, but the terrible tension was gone and so was her anxiety. She felt better now that they knew who the father was, and she felt better now that they would be able to all work together and find him.


	65. Chapter 64

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! Thank you very much to those of you who are still reading! I just want to say that comments would be much appreciated. It's okay if you're shy or don't feel like you have something new to say. Honestly, just slam your head against the keyboard and hit send. I'd be happy with that.

Dagur didn't like Hiccup's not speaking. He'd been okay with it the night before, had even been okay with it that morning, but now he was getting fed up with it. He'd figured he might be silent for a little while after the death of the slave girl, but this silence was starting to get on his nerves. Hiccup said nothing to him during dinner, and he said nothing afterwards when Dagur carried him back over from the table and to the cot. He wanted to have sex with Hiccup, but first he wanted to get him to talk.

"Hiccup, how's your back doing?"

Hiccup glanced at him, then back down at his hands, which sat in his lap.

"No, really, how is it?" Dagur pressed. He moved closer to him, took his right hand gently in his, being careful of his bandaged fingers. "Is it hurting as much?"

Hiccup didn't react.

Dagur ground his teeth together, held in an angered growl. "Hiccup, come on. I just want to know. Believe it or not I kind of care about your wellbeing." He couldn't say that he did all the time. If he did then Hiccup wouldn't have the wounds he was asking about in the first place. 

"Okay, fine, you don't want to talk about that. What do you want to talk about? Come on. There's gotta be something on your mind. I know you. You're always thinking."

Hiccup looked at him, and a little bit of hope flickered in Dagur's chest, but time passed and he said nothing. He just blinked. Dagur could usually discern what he was feeling, but now there was nothing in his eyes that gave it away. They were almost blank.

"Hiccup, you have to say something."

He waited. Hiccup looked back down at his hands. There were no words from him.

Dagur was growing angry now. Why was Hiccup refusing to talk? It wasn't that hard for him to just open his mouth and say something!

Dagur took ahold of Hiccup's broken fingers, squeezed. Hiccup yelped, squirmed a little. Dagur was waiting for him to tell him to stop, to tell him to let go, but all that came from him was a pathetic whimpering noise.

"Come on, Hiccup!" Dagur squeezed a little harder, and Hiccup shouted, but it was wordless. He just held onto him, watched him writhe and moan, let him grab onto his wrist with his other hand to try to make him let go. Tears began to drip down his cheeks, but there was no verbal protest from him.

Finally, Dagur let go. He couldn't do this to him forever, and it seemed that that wasn't going to make Hiccup speak. Hiccup took a huge breath when he let go, sobbed a little. He looked at him again, and Dagur expected a glare, an insult, but his face was just sorrowful, and his lips were pursed shut. He let go of his wrist, went to cradle his right hand to his chest.

"Hiccup, just say something!" Dagur shrieked it at him. He couldn't help it.

Hiccup shook his head, the first actual response he'd gotten from him all day.

"Why not?"

For that, Hiccup gave him no answer. He just drew his eyes away from him.

"Oh, for the love of Thor!" Dagur grabbed at him, shoved him down onto his back and climbed on top of him. Hiccup didn't fight, didn't argue. He just went completely limp underneath him.

"Uh-uh, not happening." Dagur violently tore open Hiccup's robe, took ahold of his cock without any preamble. It wasn't long before life came back into Hiccup's body and he was arching into his hand with quiet moans. 

Dagur pumped him faster, and Hiccup moaned louder for it. He wanted to make him climax, wanted to hurt him after to get him to talk, to just tell him to stop. He no longer cared what words came from Hiccup's mouth. He'd settle for absolutely anything, even him swearing at him and insulting him.

He gripped Hiccup's wrists with his other hand, pinned them above his head. Really, he should have tied him up before doing this, but he was just so eager to get him to talk. There was no time to tie him up.

 _Maybe he'll talk without me hurting him_ , he realized.

"Hiccup, if you tell me when you're going to cum I won't hurt you after."

Hiccup didn't respond, didn't even nod or shake his head. He just attempted to pull his wrists free, gasping, pleasure making his voice leak into each breath. But it was just his voice. He didn't take it and try to form it into words. He just let it come out of him shapeless.

"I'm serious. Tell me and I won't hurt you."

Nothing but his wordless moans. Dagur loved the sound, was easily growing aroused from it, but he wanted more.

"Hiccup, just talk to me!"

He didn't talk, and as time passed he began to squirm a little, began to fight his grip a little more.

"Come on. I know you're close. Just say it and save yourself."

Hiccup didn't say anything, and soon he was climaxing, his cock throbbing in Dagur's hand, his seed spurting out. He yelled as Dagur worked him through it, and kept yelling as he didn't stop. He hadn't told him what he'd wanted him to, so now this was what he'd get.

"Tell me to stop, Hiccup," Dagur spoke sternly above his shouts of pain. "Tell me to stop and I will."

He expected for that to work. He never stopped when Hiccup told him to, and he was thinking that maybe giving him the hope that he would this time would make him say it. 

He said nothing, so Dagur didn't stop.

Though, after a minute he decided to give Hiccup a break. He stroked his hand over his left thigh as he gasped and heaved.

"Brother, if you say something I won't hurt you," he said sweetly, completely honest.

Hiccup had his head turned away and his eyes closed, and the only thing coming from his mouth was labored breaths. Dagur touched him again and he jolted and cried out in the most amazing way. He wasn’t rough this time, worked him slowly, but it still caused pain. Hiccup twisted his head, started sobbing, but he didn’t tell him no, or to let go, or to stop.

“Come on! I told you I’d stop if you told me to!” Completely frustrated, he worked his thumb just beneath the head of his cock where he was most sensitive, and Hiccup screamed. He screamed again as he kept doing it, and soon he was just a wailing, bawling mess underneath him. Dagur loved that he could do this to him, but he hated the reason that he was doing it. Usually he did this for his own pleasure, because he liked watching Hiccup in pain knowing that he’d caused it. He liked causing anyone pain, but especially Hiccup, and especially here in the most sensitive part of his body. He didn’t like doing it to get him to talk though. He’d rather just be doing it for the sake of doing it, for the sake of torturing him with his only motive being that he enjoyed it.

Giving in to defeat, he pulled his hand away. Hiccup went limp, erratically pulling in air, still crying. Dagur even let go of his wrists. Hiccup wasn’t going to talk tonight and he’d just have to accept that. He could try again tomorrow.

He wasn’t done with him though, so he unbuckled his belt and pulled out his length, wanting from Hiccup’s agony.

 

Hiccup hurt after. Dagur had been far from gentle with him, and he could feel the aftermath of his hands on him, his body throbbing and aching where he’d touched him. He’d probably thought it time to freshen up the bruises that had begun to clear.

He’d wanted his robe after, to at least have some illusion of decency, but Dagur hadn’t given it to him or allowed him to get it; he was now trapped against him with his breath hot on his neck. And Dagur still saw it fit to touch him, to stick his hand between them and grope at his still-stinging ass. Hiccup was afraid he was going to take him again, and if he was going to he wouldn’t be able to stop him. He wasn’t supposed to stop him. He was here for this, to be owned by him in every way imaginable. When he thought about it, his breaths weren’t even his own. Everything, every part of him, belonged to Dagur, and there was no fighting that now. Dagur had taken everything away from him that had mattered, had made it so that _he_ was the only thing that mattered.

“Hiccup, could you talk to me please?” His voice was gentle, so different from the monster that had brutally ravished him mere minutes ago, that had held him much too tightly and tugged on his collar till he couldn’t breathe. It had made Hiccup feel like nothing but a stupid animal.

Hiccup didn’t respond. All he did was shift against him. He couldn’t respond. Words just couldn’t _happen_. He knew perfectly well how to make them, but it seemed much too difficult for them to come out of him. 

_Maybe I can try._

He opened his mouth to attempt it, and then Bryn’s eyes were staring at him through his closed eyelids, tear-filled and scared beyond belief. His words hadn’t helped her. They’d done nothing but kill her. He closed his mouth again.

Dagur moved his hand to his thigh, trailed his fingers up and down, and it was a pleasant touch. “Please, Hiccup.” 

_No._

Dagur nibbled briefly on his ear. “Pretty please?”

Hiccup wanted to scream at him. How could he explain to him that he couldn’t talk, that words were utterly lost on him? He’d tried his best to summon them when Dagur had been torturing him for them, but they’d remained stuck inside and useless. They were there, but just out of his reach.

Then Dagur’s hand ventured over to his manhood, and Hiccup groaned as he easily became aroused in his hand. There was a voice in his head calling him a whore, but he paid it no mind. He already knew he was a whore. He didn’t need a reminder.

“Shit, your body’s amazing,” Dagur commented. “Always wanting sex now, isn’t it? Always wanting _me._ ” 

Hiccup shuddered in a mix of pleasure and disgust. Some revolting part of him liked Dagur’s voice right in his ear, liked the way his beard scratched at his skin, liked how big his hand was and how rough it felt against his cock. That part of himself buried him underneath it’s desperate, gruesome need, shut him out till he didn’t exist anymore and was nothing but physical sensation and maddening lust.

He ground himself backwards on Dagur, a request for him to fuck him. He didn’t care if he was rough or gentle about it. He just wanted sex.

And Dagur gave it to him. He removed his hand from his cock, slid it underneath his leg and lifted it, making his chain swing and rattle. He moved forwards and into him, settled his cock right where it belonged in his body, and Hiccup moaned loudly at the gratification of it. It didn’t matter that he’d just gotten this: he needed it again.

“Fuck, Hiccup, yeah,” Dagur breathed. His other hand went around his neck, but he didn’t squeeze. He rocked in and out of him slowly, steadily, stroking against his prostate, and Hiccup loved it. Dagur lifted his leg even more, pulled him towards him, and the movement made each of his thrusts hit deeper. 

Hiccup grabbed at the hand around his neck, but not to make him let go, just to have something to hold onto. He moaned loudly and unashamedly like the whore he was. He was a whore, which was why he loved how thick Dagur was inside of him, how hot and long and lovely. He clenched his muscles around his cock to show his appreciation of it and Dagur gasped, so he did it again. This time the action produced a moan that made a pleasant chill run up his spine.

“Brother, baby, oh _fuck_.”

Hiccup laughed a little at Dagur’s pleasure. He was definitely doing well at his job of pleasing him.

Dagur kissed at his cheek, groaned loudly. His chain rattled louder as the chief picked up his pace. 

“Hiccup, you’re perfect. So fucking perfect.” He was slamming into him much harder now, producing pain, but Hiccup was okay with that. He deserved pain. “I _hate_ how perfect you are. I can’t _stand_ it.”

Dagur now fucked him with an angry, hateful passion, but there was a twisted love in it too. A twisted, deformed kind of love that was trying to tear him apart and find his soul.

Because Dagur did love him. He hated him at the same time and wanted him to hurt, but he also loved him. Hiccup couldn’t make sense of it, felt that he was being overwhelmed more by Dagur’s emotion than by the sensation he was pounding into him. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to make sense of it. Maybe Dagur himself couldn’t even make sense of it.

But then Hiccup was drawn away from the emotion of it, was pulled back to the pure physicality of it, the sweet and awful mix of pleasure and pain that he was feeling. He almost never wanted it to stop, wanted to just feel this good and terrible until he died. If Dagur wanted to do this to him forever, then he was willing. He was supposed to be willing. He was his property, and property didn’t have a say in what happened to it. It was just supposed to take it, and make it better by appreciating it, so Hiccup appreciated it.

He dug his nails into the back of Dagur’s hand as he neared orgasm, the third one of the night. He was afraid now, afraid that he would hurt him, would torture him to get him to talk. The awful side of himself that enjoyed this was crawling back into the dark pit it had come from, leaving him to deal with whatever was left. He didn’t want to hurt, but at the same time he knew he deserved it. He’d killed Bryn. It might as well have been him that had snapped her neck and not Dagur. It was his fault that she was dead, and so he deserved to hurt.

Dagur pushed him through his climax, hips driving him past the limit of pleasure, turning his voice to a scream, but the over-sensitivity and the pain didn’t last, as Dagur came as well. He thrusted into him a few more times, then paused for a moment before leaving him. 

Hiccup was left shaking in the aftermath of it, panting and sweating. The urge to somehow kill himself rose abruptly and violently from somewhere inside of him - like some black tidal wave that had the power to wipe out entire islands - and he wanted to curl in on himself, to hide from the feeling. Dagur released his leg and let him lower it, so he curled up into the fetal position like he wanted to, lowered his head towards his knees. The dark and terrible urge battered against him and hammered him down. Dagur’s hand on his waist and his voice asking him what was wrong only added to it. He wanted to die. He wanted to die right then and there. He almost found words then, found the words to ask Dagur to kill him, please kill him, but the words were stuck inside of him, just as stuck and useless as he was.

Eventually, Dagur’s gentle touches and his soothing words relaxed him, and he uncurled himself, let the urge to kill himself return to where it was supposed to be in some pitch black recess of his mind. Dagur’s arms went around him, and he hated it, but he also knew that he wouldn’t be able to sleep without him there, without him holding him like this. He opened his mouth to thank him, and there was a small noise in his throat, but that was as much as he could manage. Dissatisfied, he closed his mouth and snuggled into Dagur. When he closed his eyes, he saw Bryn’s staring back at him, hurt and betrayed, reminding him that he deserved this, that he deserved every second of this.

 

“Wait, but we definitely searched there!” Tuffnut cried, pointing at the map. “Why isn’t it circled?”

“And I’m pretty sure we didn’t search there,” Heather said, pointing at another location. They were comparing the maps they’d been sending back and forth, and for some reason the information wasn’t coinciding. It made it look like they’d been scattered all over the place instead of doing methodical searches. “I swear, I never circled that.”

“Okay, we need a new map,” Stoick decided. “Something isn’t right here.”

Together they drew up a new map, marking where they’d actually searched, and once it was done it looked absolutely nothing like the maps that had been sent to each other.

“Oh shit,” Snotlout breathed. “Dagur’s been messing with our Terror Mail.”

Heather narrowed her eyes, glared at the new map. This was what it should have looked like all along, but Dagur had been meddling with their information and confusing them. It was overly obvious that that was what had been happening.

“I swear I’m going to kill that bastard when I get my hands on him,” Stoick growled, still looking at the map.

“Maybe we should compare the places Dagur circled with what we’ve actually searched,” Astrid suggested. “The ones he circled could be possibilities of where he actually is.”

“Greenland,” Fishlegs quickly pointed out. “He didn’t circle the whole thing though, just this eastern portion.” He tapped at the map. “That’s kind of specific, don’t you think?”

“He also circled Tyr’s Island,” Stoick said. “Spitelout checked out the place a little while ago and found a big encampment there. We’d been planning an attacking it but then the Dragon Hunters showed up.”

“We don’t have to attack Tyr’s Island,” Heather said. “I may have declared war on Dagur by taking the throne, but I found out he doesn’t want me dead. I could go there and ask for him, see what’s what.”

“What if he isn’t there?” Ruffnut asked.

“Yeah, but what if he is?” Tuffnut.

“Whoa, guys, hold on, I can’t go there now.” She gestured to the doors of the clubhouse. “We’re kind of under siege.”

Stoick clenched his fists in frustration. “Always something stopping us from getting to Hiccup, isn’t there?”

Heather hated it. She wanted to go there now, to find Hiccup right this instant and save him from her lunatic brother. But: “After we defeat the Dragon Hunters. I’ll go and check out Tyr’s Island first since it’s the closest, and if he’s not there, then we have to assume its Greenland. There are no other places left to look.”

“Wait, Heather, you can’t go there on your own,” Stoick said, a touch of concern in his voice. “You said it yourself: you declared war. Dagur might not want you dead, but you could still be captured.”

“But if I don’t go on my own then it would look like an attack,” Heather countered. “You guys can come with me, but will just have to hold back and out of sight, okay? I have my horn. I’ll blow it if there’s trouble.”

Stoick nodded. “And blow it if Dagur’s there too. Wherever Dagur is, Hiccup is. We’ll swoop in and attack.”

“And if Dagur’s not there?” Snotlout asked.

“Then we check Greenland next,” Heather replied. “Same strategy.” She didn’t think about the possibility of Hiccup not being at either Tyr’s Island or Greenland. He had to be. He just had to be. She let herself feel hopeful for the first time in a while, and she hoped that it wouldn’t be crushed.


	66. Chapter 65

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING - This chapter has a suicide attempt in it. If this is triggering for you, skip the beginning with Hiccup's POV, and then Dagur's POV after it. Hiccup's ending POV has a lot of thought about the attempt, but no imagery of said attempt. The imagery of it is in the first two parts. Please heed the warning and stay safe.

Hiccup didn’t speak all the next morning. Dagur didn't hurt him to get him to talk, instead tried being sweet, but it didn't matter what Dagur did or what he would do. His voice was lost on him. He wondered how long that was going to last. Hel, maybe it was going to last forever and he'd never be able to speak again. He found that he was okay with that. He didn't need to speak ever again. It didn't get him anywhere.

Though, when Dagur left, Hiccup found himself longing for company, longing for someone to even talk to. He was longing for Bryn. He sat, waiting for her to enter the tent, for her to smile and ask him how he was doing. That was never going to happen again. She was dead and it was his fault. He knew it was his fault. Dagur had told him so. If he hadn't ever talked to her, hadn't ever touched her or let her touch him, she wouldn't be dead. He wouldn't have had a friend if that had happened, wouldn't have gotten to know her, but at least she would still be alive.

Part of him wanted to cry, but another part told him that was stupid, that crying wouldn't help anything, that he'd already cried over Bryn's death and didn't need to do so again.

 _But can't I just cry for myself?_ He wanted _out_ of this situation. He didn't want to be Dagur's slave. Of course Dagur told him that that wasn't, but there was no denying that that's what he truly was. It didn’t matter what Dagur believed he was. He still treated him like a sex slave.

There was no escaping though. He didn't have his prosthetic, and the chain was heavy on his right foot. And if he could escape, would he have wanted to? Would he do it if the opportunity presented itself? He decided that no, he wouldn't. Escaping had done nothing but bring him pain. He wouldn't try it again.

And it was obvious that no one was on their way to rescue him. His friends didn't care about him, his dad didn't care about him. They were all just willing to leave him here and forget about him. And even if they did care, they were going to be dead soon anyway, or already were. Viggo was going to kill all of them.

Fear clutched at his heart. After that Viggo would come for Dagur, come for him, steal him from him. He hated Dagur, but he was better than Viggo. He feared Dagur from time-to-time, but Viggo he was constantly afraid of. Viggo would make anything Dagur had done to him seem so small and insignificant. He wouldn't be human in Viggo's eyes, probably wasn't already.

Though, it was questionable whether or not he was human now. Whenever his robe came off it was like his humanity was pulled from him, gone like it had never existed.

Hiccup sighed. It seemed like such a little gesture given all that he was feeling, but that was all he was capable of. No escape, no rescue. Stuck. And he'd always be stuck.

Then he realized that no, he wouldn't always be stuck. There was a way out of this, a simple one that he'd often considered, but never thought of actually following through on. Now he would follow through on it. There was no good reason not to.

_But Toothless._

_No, doesn't matter. He can just find another rider, find another friend. I'm done with this._

Making his decision, Hiccup scooted down onto the ground, crawled over to where his chain was attached to the pole, that way he would have more room to work with it.

As he gathered up the chain into his lap, he wondered where he would go, where his soul would be sent to once it was free from his wretched body. Valhalla was out of the question. He wasn't dying in battle, and recently he hadn't done anything good in his life that would make him worthy of the place. Valhalla was for good people, people like his father and his friends, not people like him. He wondered if Bryn was there, hoped that she was. If anyone deserved Valhalla, she did.

Helheim didn't really seem like it would fit either. Helheim was for those who were average, for people who hadn't done anything outrageously bad in life, but hadn't done tremendous good either. He'd killed Bryn. Surely taking another person's life made someone unfit for Helheim.

That only left Niflheim, the frozen land where the despicable went after death. He'd suffer there, but it wouldn't be the same suffering he was going through now. He wouldn't be touched sexually without his consent, given pleasure that he didn't want. And best of all, he would be free of Dagur.

Though, Hiccup hoped he wouldn't be going to either Helheim or Niflheim, that death would be like sleep, just a heavy darkness that he'd never wake up from. That's what he wanted most of all: to never feel again. He just wanted an eternal sleep. 

Hiccup hoped for that as he began to wrap the chain around his neck. 

 

Dagur stomped through the falling snow back to his tent, not in a very good mood. The morning hadn't been going well. He'd gotten no word from his scouts, and Savage was doing nothing but countering everything he said. He'd punched the man before deciding to head back to Hiccup. Hopefully he'd be up for talking. Dagur wasn't in the mood for his silence.

He entered the tent, was about to take off his cloak when he noticed Hiccup sprawled out on the floor on his back.

He headed over to him. "Hiccup, what the Hel are you-"

Horror punched him in the gut, chased his breath from him and made his eyes bug out. Hiccup had his chain wrapped tightly around his neck, foam forming at his blue-turned lips, his face red and the veins popping out near his temples. His body was twitching as it struggled to breathe.

"Hiccup! Oh dear gods!" Dagur hurriedly knelt by him, lifted him into his lap and began to unravel the chain from around his neck. He felt that his movements weren't fast enough, that Hiccup was going to die in his arms while he was unwrapping the chain, but finally it was off. For a moment Hiccup still didn't breathe, but before Dagur could yell for him to, he was drawing in a huge, wheezing breath of air. He coughed, wheezed some more, before going limp in his arms. He could feel him breathing against him though, which was much better than he had been a few moments ago. But still...

"Guards! Guards, get in here quick!"

His shouts were heeded, and his two guards were rushing in. Dagur didn't even look at them, eyes still on Hiccup. He was breathing now, but weakly, and there was still a chance that he could die.

"One of you get a doctor!" Then he did turn to them, giving them a fearsome sneer. "And you better fucking run for one. If he dies because you weren't fast enough, then you die too."

One of the men nodded, then took off. The one that was left stepped forward.

"Sir, what can I do?"

"Just get back to your post," Dagur snapped. Then all his attention went back to Hiccup. He lifted him carefully into his arms, planning on taking him to the cot, but then decided it would be best not to move him. "Hiccup, come on, why'd you do that? Why?" There was an aching in his chest. He knew that the chain hadn't made it around Hiccup's neck by accident. He'd tried killing himself. 

Tears formed in his eyes, but he quickly lifted a hand and wiped them away, sniffled. He didn't want Hiccup to die. There had been many a time where he had nearly killed him, but that was when he'd gotten carried away. He knew that, had he ever actually killed Hiccup, he would have deeply regretted it, regretted it so much he'd probably find a way to join him.

"Hiccup, why? Why, why, why?" He knew he couldn't answer him and that he probably wouldn't had he had the ability to, but he just wanted to know. Why would Hiccup take something as precious as his own life? Why would he hurt him like this? "Don't die, don't die. I love you, don't die." He kept repeating this until the doctor arrived, and Hiccup was still breathing when she did. He'd most likely live now. No, he had to live. He _had_ to. Dagur wouldn't let him die, wouldn't allow him to. He was going to live. He was.

 

Hiccup experienced the greatest disappointment of his life when he woke up. Why was he waking up? He'd wrapped the chain tight enough, hadn't he? The last thing he remembered was that he'd been truly struggling to breathe, that he couldn't even get in a little air and that that was a good thing. He'd fallen into blackness, ready and eager for the end.

And he knew that he wasn't just coming into the afterlife, that he was still alive and regaining consciousness. He wouldn't have been held against Dagur in the afterlife, wouldn't have felt the terrible pain in his neck and throat.

He sobbed quietly and it hurt, so he didn't do it again, but let his tears fall.

_No, no, no, no, no._

He didn't want to be awake. He wanted to be dead. He wanted to be _dead._

So he did sob again despite the pain, and this time didn't stop.

“Hiccup, no, no, it’s okay. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry.” Dagur began rocking him gently.

And at the sound of his voice Hiccup cried harder. He’d never wanted to hear it again, but now it was right in his ear. He’d thought he was going to be free, free forever, but he wasn’t.

He wanted to ask Dagur how he was still alive, but words refused to come from his mouth. Maybe he should just give up trying to talk. So instead of talking he just kept crying. He didn’t want to be here.

“Sh, Hiccup, sh, you’re hurting yourself. Quiet. It’s okay.”

Hiccup wanted to scream. It wasn’t okay. Nothing was ever okay or ever would be again. He was still alive when he didn’t want to be, still breathing when he’d tried to stop it.

Eventually, he stopped crying, but not because Dagur told him to, because he just couldn’t anymore. It was making his throat hurt beyond belief, and so now he was just quiet and sniffling, taking deep breaths with Dagur wiping away his tears. He was silent for some time, but then he asked the question that Hiccup had been waiting for him to ask:

“Why’d you do that, Hiccup? Why’d you try killing yourself?”

 _Because of you._ How couldn’t Dagur see what he was doing to him, that he was the one that had driven him to that point? Anger flared up in him, but he just let it sit and simmer. 

“Please, Hiccup. Please talk to me. Why’d you do it?”

_Because of you! You’re the reason!_

“Come on, please. Tell me. Talk to me.” Dagur’s voice was pleading. “You’re driving me crazy, Hiccup. Just say something! Just tell me why!”

_It’s your fault!_

Dagur waited, but all he got was silence. Hiccup wasn’t going to talk to him. He couldn’t. And even if he could, would he tell Dagur the true reason that he’d tried killing himself? That would surely start an argument, and he’d surely get hurt for it.

“Hiccup, _please_.”

He said nothing. He just kept breathing and suffered for it.

“Why would you do that to me?”  
_Shut up, Dagur._

“Why would you take yourself away from me?”

_Shut up!_

He hadn’t been trying to hurt Dagur, hadn’t been thinking about how he would feel if he were dead. He just wanted to escape him.

“Why would you do that? I love you.”

Hiccup knew Dagur wasn’t lying when he said that, and he hated it. He hated it how this man who abused him and regularly took his humanity from him could love him. He hated it, but he knew it was true. He _did_ love him. He just didn’t know how to show it properly, didn’t know how to express it.

 _I hate you._ He mouthed the words, but of course nothing came out, and he had his back pressed against Dagur, so he wouldn’t be able to see. _I hate you so much._ He mouthed that too.

“I love you, Hiccup. Come on. Talk to me, please. I won’t hurt you. Promise.”

Hiccup actually believed him for the moment. Dagur didn’t hurt him all the time, didn’t even always do it purposefully. If he said he wouldn’t hurt him, then he wouldn’t, but still, he couldn’t talk. He wished he didn’t have to. The dead didn’t talk, and that’s what he wanted to be. He almost started crying again. He wasn’t dead.

Dagur kept on with his pestering, with his pleading with him to talk and his questioning of why he’d tried killing himself. Hiccup wanted to block his ears, to tell him to shut up, but he just lay limply in his arms and regretted each breath. Then Dagur was silent for a few minutes and Hiccup was grateful for it. It was an oddly comfortable silence. It was strange that some things could be comfortable with Dagur, that not everything was tense and angry and terrifying. Some moments were just like this: quiet and meaningless.

Then Dagur ruined it. 

“I saved you, you know.”

Hiccup hated him even more now. He hadn’t wanted saving. He hadn’t needed it.

“I… I came in here and you had the chain wrapped around your neck, and…” There were tears in Dagur’s voice and he sniffled. “It was awful Hiccup. Your face was all red and your lips were blue and you were struggling to breathe. I-I saved you. I thought I wouldn’t be fast enough, but I saved you. Thank the gods I walked in when I did. If-if I hadn’t…” Dagur trailed off, didn’t have to finish. There was a strange whimpering, choking noise in his throat, like he was holding back a sob. “ _Why_ , Hiccup?”

_Because I want out of this, out of here. I want to be rid of you. I never want to see you again. I hate you, I hate you. You drove me to this. You make me want to die._

The words remained trapped inside of him, and he remained trapped inside of his body. Hiccup wondered which would become untrapped first, if he could try killing himself again. The chain could still work, just as long as Dagur didn’t walk in. It was still there, surprisingly. Dagur was so afraid of him getting away that he was leaving him with another method of freeing himself. The chain could bind him and free him. He almost laughed at the irony of it.

Then, a little abruptly, Dagur was rolling Hiccup over to face him. He looked away when he was facing him, lowered his head, but Dagur took him gently by the chin and made him lift it. Hiccup avoided his gaze, looked over his shoulder.

“No, Hiccup, look at me.”

His voice was so soft, so compelling, that Hiccup found himself doing so. There were tears in Dagur’s eyes, eyes that held such pain. It somehow made him feel guilty. He hated Dagur, wanted him to hurt, but something about actually seeing it in his eyes, seeing that it was possible to hurt him, made him feel guilty. He quickly shoved down the feeling. He shouldn’t be feeling guilt over any of this. It was Dagur that should be feeling it, if he even knew what it was.

“You really can’t talk, can you?” He released his chin, and so Hiccup shook his head.

“So you’re not doing it to spite me?”

Another head shake. He was glad that Dagur was actually trying to figure out what was going on rather than just assuming and plowing ahead like he always did and had already done.

“Okay, just… just talk when you’re ready, Hiccup. I’ll do my best not to push you.” Then Dagur kissed him, gently, _innocently_ , and Hiccup wanted to die, but at the same time it also made him want to live. He didn’t understand it, couldn’t possibly hope to. He didn’t kiss back. There was no good reason to.


	67. Chapter 66

They were hit with catapult fire when the sun came up that afternoon. The Dragon Hunters had moved closer to strike them, choking the island in a circle, but it also put them within range of the Edge catapults. With boulders flying from either side and the Dragon Hunters so close, Stoick had no choice but to order Berk's smaller fleet to attack. He had them grouped near the front of the island. It left the other sides unprotected by boat, but they would have been useless unless together. Surrounding the island in a protective barrier would have spread them too thin.

The battle was short, only lasting as long as the sunlight, but when it was done they had taken heavy damage. One of the walls had all but crumbled, and they'd lost many a longship; all the Dragon Hunters had to do to get rid of those was ram them with their much larger ships, and they'd tip and break apart and sink. They'd only managed to take out two of the larger ships with their catapults. Though the battle had only ended due to the sun's going down, it was obvious who had won. Stoick hoped the Berserker fleet would arrive soon. It had only been a few days since the start of the siege, but Dragon's Edge wouldn't be able to hold forever. 

 

That night the lights came back on, one group on the southern side and another group on the eastern side. They looked like relatively small groupings of ships, but Stoick wasn't going to take the chance that they weren't, that there were more ships hidden beside them ready to attack when they did. So, the Dragon Riders had orders to stay put, to do nothing but patrol and watch.

Astrid hovered on Stormfly, looking out at the southern lights, pondering. What was the point of the lights? It wasn't supposed to hide the Dragon Hunters' numbers. They'd seen them in the day and it was clear how large the force was, and Viggo or Ryker, whoever was leading the attack, must have known that. Instead it felt like they were being played with, like the lights were nothing more than a game to wear them down, to tempt them to fight. It was making everybody tense, not that they weren't tense already being surrounded by a force larger and stronger than their own. 

Astrid had been there only a day, but she could tell that the lights were driving Stoick crazy with frustration, that they only served as a reminder that there was an enemy out there that he couldn't fight. It was a strange tactic, not violent, but careful, patient, meant to wear down on their psyche.

_So much like..._

_Hiccup._

The lights, the game in the dark, the waiting. It was all exactly like something Hiccup would do. It was Hiccup's plan. It had to be.

 _Oh gods, that means Viggo does know where he is_ , Astrid thought as she turned and flew back to the clubhouse. It also meant that he had hurt him. There was no doubt about that. Hiccup wouldn't divulge information easily and without pain on his part. He would have wanted to protect them.

Astrid was wiping tears from her eyes when she landed at the clubhouse. Viggo had hurt Hiccup. That's how he was doing this, how he was attacking them so successfully. Hiccup knew how his dad's mind worked, how his friends' minds worked, and so he knew how to play with them. He was dangerous if he wanted to be, if he had no choice to be, and he obviously hadn't had a choice in this. He'd been forced to tell Viggo how to attack Dragon's Edge.

"Astrid, what is it?" Gobber asked upon her quick entrance. He was standing beside Stoick, a map spread out on the table in front of them.

"It's Hiccup's plan," she said hurriedly. "It's not Viggo's or Ryker's. It's Hiccup's."

"Wait, lass, how do you know that?" Stoick asked, seemingly startled by the words.

Astrid strode over, sniffled, wiped tears from her face. She couldn't cry in front of her chief. "It just makes sense," she started. "It's exactly something Hiccup would do. It's not overly violent or anything. It's a waiting game, and the lights are to make us - well, _you_ \- crack. He knows how to make you crack, and that's to put an enemy in front of you that you can't fight, but it won't fight you either. That's what the lights are for. They're just supposed to taunt you."

Stoick looked down to the table, then after a moment muttered something under his breath, probably a curse. Then he was silent again.

The silence was broken by Stoick slamming his fist on the table with a wordless shout, the sudden movement making Astrid and Gobber flinch. Then he did it again, this time with both hands, and then a third time before he kicked at the table and strode away from it, pacing in agitation.

"That bastard! That bastard! I _knew_ Viggo knew where Hiccup was! I knew it!" He pulled angrily at his beard, then went back over to the table and kicked it again. "That son of a bitch! I'm gonna kill him too! He _hurt_ my _son!_ "

The pain in Stoick's voice made Astrid's tears resurface, and she let them fall this time, quietly. It hurt to see her chief like this. He was supposed to be a figure of strength, supposed to be... stoic. But now he wasn't. How could anyone hope for him to be in this situation, when his son had been missing for so long and was being put through unspeakable torment, and not just at the hands of one man like they had thought, but two?

Stoick slammed his hands down on the table again, then kept them there, lowered his head. His shoulders shook, but for a few moments no sound came out of him. Then he was crying, sobbing, and he sounded like a wounded animal. Astrid didn't know what to do. She'd never heard the sound before, and she felt like she shouldn't be witnessing this, that she wasn't supposed to see past the anger and strength that Stoick usually portrayed, that she wasn't supposed to see him so vulnerable and heartbroken.

Gobber said nothing, just placed a hand on Stoick's back.

For a minute or so no one moved or did anything, Stoick's bellows the only sound in the room. Hopefully the walls kept them in, kept this moment private to just the three of them.

Then Gobber spoke, softly, trying to draw Stoick out of his place of despair.

"Chief, we have to think of a plan. Come on. We know it's Hiccup's now. We just have to think like him. What would Hiccup do?"

Stoick abruptly shoved Gobber's hand away. "I don't... I don't want to think about him."

"Chief, we have to. We have to to defeat these Dragon Hunters, but once we do we can go to him. We can find him and bring him home."

"I can't _think_ about him, Gobber!" Stoick suddenly roared, turning on his friend. It was like he'd forgotten that Astrid was there. "I can't because then my head just goes to thinking about how he's suffering and wondering what his screams sound like! I can't because all I can think about is what Dagur's doing to him!" Then he looked away from Gobber, leaned on the table again. "Odin, he's going to be such a mess. Help me, he's going to be such a mess. Help me."

They fell into silence once again.

"Chief, I can work with Gobber on a plan if you want," Astrid suggested. Something had to be done, and if Stoick was in no place to do it, then she could help. "I'm good at this kind of thing."

"She really is, chief. What say you go rest and Astrid and I will-"

"I don't _need_ rest," Stoick growled. "I need my son. I need _Hiccup_."

Gobber put his hand on Stoick's back again, a little tentative, but the chief didn't throw it off. "And we'll get Hiccup," Gobber told him softly. "But we have to do this first. That's the only way."

Astrid waited, wondering if Stoick would blow up again, but finally he just nodded, then straightened. He looked at Gobber for a moment, clasped his hand, then made to leave the clubhouse. On the way out he patted Astrid on the shoulder.

"I trust you, Astrid. I'm... I'm sorry I can't do better." 

Astrid could only nod in understanding, and then Stoick left. She then made her way over to the table, to where Stoick had been standing. One of his fists had struck hard enough to splinter the wood. She looked down at the map, but couldn't make any of it out until she blinked to clear tears from her vision.

"Okay, Astrid," Gobber began. "What are you thinking?"

 

Toothless lifted his head dismally as someone entered the stables. He supposed it was time for his daily walk, but he wasn't in the mood. He wasn't in the mood for much of anything except laying around.

"Toothless!"

The call made him perk up, and he lifted his ears. That was Hiccup's mate! He hadn't seen her in so long, almost as long as he hadn't seen Hiccup.

_Maybe she has Hiccup with her!_

He stood and made his way over to her excitedly, almost prancing. She was alone, but that didn't necessarily mean that Hiccup wasn't back. He circled around her, sniffing hopefully, trying to pick up Hiccup's scent. It wasn't there. Just the scents of Stormfly and Hiccup's sire.

Toothless lowered his ears, looked to Astrid questioningly, despairingly. She said something, and he couldn't understand all of it, but he didn't have to. He could understand that Hiccup wasn't back.

He made a distressed lowing sound, turned his back on Astrid, planning to return to his corner and maybe never move again. He was getting tired of this. He just wanted his friend. He wanted to be up in the air with him again, to fly with him. Toothless so desperately wanted to fly again.

Astrid jogged over to him, stopped in front of him, and he growled a little. Why was she getting in the way of his dark corner where he could sulk? He didn't want to do anything else.

Astrid ran one hand soothingly over his head, the other under his chin, and Toothless welcomed the contact, leaning into it with a cooing noise. She spoke again in the way that humans did, and he mostly understood what she said. There was an enemy out there, surrounding the island, and she wanted to fly with him and help him attack. Though, he knew he couldn't fly, not without the contraption Hiccup had made him. He swept his tail into view to communicate this to her. She said that she knew, that Gobber was making a new one for him. Toothless responded to this by hopping around in excitement. He couldn't help it. He hadn't flown in over two months and his wings ached for it, longed to have currents of air under them again.

He hopped up on Astrid, licked her face, and she responded by making that chortling human sound of amusement. It was good to hear. He hadn't heard any of the humans make such a sound in a long time. The only problem was that it wasn't Hiccup's, wasn't his best friend's. He just wanted him back.

Astrid spoke again, saying that the tail should be ready for tomorrow, and Toothless wiggled himself excitedly. He knew what tomorrow meant. It meant soon, very soon.

_I'll be flying again! I'll be flying!_

Toothless expected Astrid to leave after bringing him this news, but she didn't. Instead, she led him outside, where he had a happy reunion with Stormfly, and then to the training arena, saying that they were going to play. Toothless was more than happy to. He didn't have Hiccup back yet, but he was getting close. He could feel it.

On the way there, he looked out towards the sea, the most likely place for an enemy to be waiting. He could see clearly what he figured the humans couldn't except by day: huge ships that he knew belonged to the Dragon Hunters. A low growl left him as he looked at them. He really didn't like those kinds of humans. They were always attacking him, Hiccup, and his friends, trying to trap him and the other dragons. They hurt dragons, and there was nothing Toothless liked about that.

Again, Astrid said tomorrow. He could wait for tomorrow. Tomorrow.


	68. Chapter 67

The Dragon Hunters attacked with the daylight again, but the attack was shorter than the day before - the daylight was shorter than the day before. Soon they wouldn’t have any light to make their attacks by.

Tuffnut went out with the rest of the Dragon Riders and the A Team to fight. Mostly their job was to protect Berk’s fleet from the war galleons. He didn’t feel very hopeful as he fought alongside Ruffnut, but he kept telling himself that maybe if they just chipped away a little of the Dragon Hunters at a time, they could win this.

When the sun went down it was unclear who had won or lost the battle. It was more of a draw. There had been ships lost on both sides, but luckily the Riders had been able to rescue the Vikings aboard the ships before they could drown or freeze to death in the water.

Afterwards, Tuffnut sat in his hut, idly twirling a spear in his left hand. His right shoulder ached. It was an almost constant thing now, but he was getting used to it. He was happy that he could use his arm again, but it wasn’t the same it had been before. His movements with it were slower, weaker, so he was learning to fight with his left hand instead. He was getting rather good at it, almost at the same skill level with the spear as he had been with his right hand before taking the arrow. He was hoping he’d be able to put it to the test soon, hopefully on a Berserker, maybe even on Dagur himself.

"Tuff, could you stop that? You're making me dizzy!" Ruffnut snapped from where she was lounging on her own bed.

"Oh yeah? Am I?" He stood, planning on twirling it in front of her face to annoy her, but sat again with a sigh. There was no fun in it at the moment. He was just tired, but he didn't want to sleep. It was hard to sleep when the enemy was right outside. "So have you seen Stoick recently? He hasn't been around since yesterday." It was odd. Stoick had been the one leading the attacks, but Astrid had led them that time. Evening had come and Stoick had just vanished.

"Nope, haven't seen him," Ruffnut answered tiredly. She yawned. "The guy's probably tired. Like me. So shut up."

Tuffnut frowned, but didn't say anything else, heeding his sister's wishes. When he glanced over at her she had her eyes closed.

 _Okay, fine. Guess I'll just go find out what's going on._ Tuffnut stood and left the hut, shivering a little at the cold. It was snowing with light, fluffy, drifting flakes.

When he made it to the clubhouse, he realized that he still had his spear in his hand, clutching it tightly. It didn't matter though. It wasn't like he was the only one carrying around a weapon. Astrid constantly had her axe strapped to her back though they hadn't been in close combat, and that stood true when he entered the clubhouse. She was with Gobber and Heather, and they were all gathered around something on the table.

"Hey, what's that?" Tuffnut questioned as his form of announcement. Three heads swiveled his way as he walked over.

Gobber held up what had been on the table, smiling. "Toothless' new tail fin!" There was actual cheer in his voice, something Tuffnut hadn't heard from anyone in a long time. "What do ya think?"

Tuffnut came over, peered at it. "It looks good," he surmised. Gobber put it back on the table. "But who will be riding him? Hiccup's not..." He trailed off. He didn't need to say that Hiccup wasn't there. They were all too aware of that, had been for nearly two and a half months.

"I will be," Astrid said. "Hiccup told Viggo to play with light and dark, so we'll do it right back."

Tuffnut furrowed his brow. "What? What do you mean Hiccup told Viggo to do this?"

Astrid frowned. "It's not Viggo's plan," she said. "It's Hiccup's. Think about it."

Tuffnut looked at the floor, and he did think about it. The playing around, the wearing down on their minds, the light and the dark. Hiccup was known for taking advantage of darkness, given that he rode a Night Fury. It was an awful lot like him, wasn't it?

"So that means that Viggo knows where he is," Tuffnut said dismally. "It means that Viggo hurt him." He clutched his spear tighter, looked back to Astrid, and she nodded.

"So maybe we should try to capture him," Tuffnut suggested. "Make him tell us where Hiccup is!"

"Actually, Heather and I have a prisoner that will be arriving with the Berserker fleet," Astrid said. "He was on the council and working for Dagur. He knows where he is. If we could just get him to talk."

"He hasn't so far," Heather said grudgingly.

"Oh, Stoick will get him to talk," Gobber said, sounding rather confident. "I don't know of anyone who wouldn't spill information to Stoick the Vast."

"Yeah, so, um, speaking of Stoick, where is he?" Tuffnut asked.

For a moment no one said anything, but then Gobber spoke: “Resting.”

“But shouldn’t _he_ be leading the battles?” Tuffnut wasn’t satisfied with the answer he’d been given. “Nothing against the way you do it, Hoff, but I just wanna know… you know?”

“I said he’s resting,” Gobber responded harshly. “That’s all there is to it Tuffnut, so drop it.”

Tuffnut blinked a little in surprise, not having expected the tone from Gobber. Though, it let him know that there was more going on with Stoick than what he was being told. What was wrong with his chief?

 

Stoick stood alone in Hiccup's hut. The place was empty save for him. It seemed like it'd been that way forever. He paced around a little, the floor creaking under his weight.

He didn't know why he was in there really. He had a hut of his own on Dragon's Edge now. He should be in there, trying to sleep. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept. The constant on and off of the lights was making it hard for him to do so, making him stressed and anxious.

He stopped pacing, looked around again. Empty. He was alone.

"Hiccup," he muttered. "Hiccup. Where's Hiccup? Where is he?" He asked the question to the air, to the emptiness that had been around this place for too long now. His son should be here, making his usual jokes, maybe even getting on his nerves a little. He should be _here_. He should be here, with him, with his friends, his dragon, smiling and laughing, _enjoying_ himself. Stoick knew that wherever he was that he wasn't smiling. He was probably screaming.

Stoick went up the stairs, stared at Hiccup's cold, empty bed, and his mind wandered, wandered into dark things that he'd been trying to avoid. What if Hiccup was screaming for him, longing for him, but he couldn't get to him? What if he cried for him to save him?

"I'm trying, I'm trying," he said to the air. "I'm sorry, Hiccup. I'm so sorry."

This was his fault. He should have never let Hiccup out of his sight with Dagur on the loose. But he hadn't known. He hadn't _known_. Why couldn't he have just told him? Why couldn't he have just sat him down and told him what Dagur wanted with him and how truly afraid of him he was? Why couldn't he have just _talked_ to him?

Stoick realized that that was his fault too. He wasn't approachable, especially when it came to feelings. He didn't know how to help others with emotions - not very well, at least. He'd thought that Hiccup was fine, that he was worried about Dagur getting Toothless, not him. That's what Dagur had made it seem like he wanted, so of course Stoick hadn't worried about his son as much as he should have.

"I'm sorry, son. I'll do better. I promise." He would have no choice but to do better. Hiccup wouldn't be the same when they got him back. He knew that. He didn't want to think about that, but it was there. He knew he'd never have his son the same way again, knew that the last time he'd seen him was now the last time he'd ever see him as himself. Hiccup would be changed, would be an utter emotional disaster, and Stoick would have to help him.

For a while he'd ignored the fact that Hiccup would be changed when they got him back, but that had been for the first few weeks or so of his captivity. Hiccup was resilient beyond measure, and he knew he wouldn't have broken in that time, but now... It was very possible that he had.

"Hiccup, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

He knew that there was no point in apologizing, that he was only apologizing to the silence. He just hoped that that silence wouldn't be forever.

 

Hiccup's silence had so far continued. He'd given up trying to speak, and Dagur had surprisingly stayed true to his word and not pushed him to. He still talked to him, but he'd given up searching for an answer, and had thankfully also given up hurting him to get him to talk. He still hurt him of course. He always hurt him. It was like he couldn't help it. Hiccup was beginning to not care. It was just in Dagur's nature to hurt him, and he couldn't stop him. If Dagur wanted to hurt him, then so be it.

Though, at the moment Dagur wasn't hurting him. He was removing the bandages from around his abdomen, talking to him softly as he did so. He didn't speak of anything of import, just about how his day had gone. Hiccup didn't mind listening to him. He used to be annoyed by his voice, but now he couldn't find any annoyance within him.

Hiccup had also lost the will to kill himself, though he had a very easy way to do it. Dagur hadn't removed his chain, but what was the point in killing himself if he'd just go to Niflheim? In a way, he was almost okay with this. He figured that this was just what his life was going to be like now and that he would have to be okay with it. At least he'd be living in a castle at some point. Heather had probably gone to help Dragon's Edge and she was probably dead now too. Dagur would be able to return home soon, and it would be Hiccup's home too. He'd live in luxury and comfort, and if Dagur abusing him went with it, then he would have to be okay with that too. Besides, it wasn't like he abused him all the time. His touches could be gentle, almost sweet and caring. Maybe someday they could fully become that. Maybe they already were and Hiccup just didn't fully realize it yet.

"Hm, still some scabbing but it looks like it's healing well," Dagur commented as a portion of his back became bare. He kissed at one of the scabs in mention and Hiccup shivered a little at the contact. "I don't think you're gonna need these bandages anymore. Thank the gods. I missed seeing all your skin." He leaned closer, lips brushing over his ear. "I missed _touching_ it."

Hiccup's body had certainly missed that too. He wasn't sure if he himself had, but the part of him that was all just sexual want most definitely had.

Soon, the bandages were off, and Dagur was running his hands carefully over his back. Hiccup could feel that most of his flesh was scabbed over and ruined, and he frowned a little. Another part of him that would be scarred, probably forever.

"Beautiful," Dagur breathed, and Hiccup felt a little better for it. Dagur would be the only one looking at him like this, seeing him naked and how he truly was. His opinion on his body was the only one that mattered, so if he thought it was beautiful, then it must be. Besides, he was the one owning it. 

"Now turn around, baby. I want to see the front of you."

Hiccup turned around to face Dagur, and the man's face was almost awed at finally seeing him without bandages. Then he practically pounced on him, pushing him onto his back, lips seeking out his brand as his hands traveled up and down over him. Hiccup sighed and arched into it like he was supposed to whenever Dagur touched him.

"Beautiful, Hiccup. So beautiful. My Hiccup." He spoke between kissing at his brand before moving his mouth to one of his nipples, which was want for attention, not having had any in quite some time. Hiccup grasped at Dagur's hair with his left hand, moaned a little like he knew Dagur wanted him to. This was good. He didn't even have to lie to himself about that or keep telling it to himself, not when it was true, not when he believed it.

Dagur briefly lifted himself off of him, met Hiccup's eyes. "You belong to me, you understand?"

Hiccup nodded. The sooner he agreed with him the sooner he'd be back to pleasuring him.

"And you're not allowed to take yourself away from me. Got it?"

Hiccup nodded again. Dagur was still stuck on the fact that he'd almost died, that he'd almost killed himself, and Hiccup couldn't blame him. He did belong to Dagur and wasn't supposed to take himself away from him. That wasn't right.

"Good." He lowered his head again, sucked almost reverently at his other nipple. His hands were caressing his bruised hips, and they were the same hands that had given him the bruises, that would probably give him more in the next hour or so, but for now they were gentle. 

Hiccup bucked into him, rubbing his hardening cock against his stomach. Luckily he'd taken his armor off upon entering the tent, so he was rutting against fabric instead of metal.

"In a bit, Hiccup," Dagur assured him. "I just want this part of you first." The chief pressed his open mouth to his chest and moaned a little. "So perfect, Hiccup. You're so perfect."

He trailed his mouth over his body, sucking and biting marks into his skin. The pain of his teeth only served to arouse Hiccup even more, and he writhed desperately underneath him, tugging at his hair, letting his pleasure be heard. He didn't care that Dagur's guards no doubt heard him. The sounds were for Dagur, but it didn't matter that anyone else heard. Let them be jealous of what was being done to him, because who wouldn't want such attention? 

It was almost meticulous, Dagur making sure that his mouth touched every part of him that had been hidden by the bandages. He could feel that he was honoring him, that he was grateful for him and the way his skin was once again bared to him. Who wouldn't want to be honored in such a way?

Dagur drew himself up again. He touched each new mark he’d made on Hiccup’s body before bringing his hands to his nipples and pinching and twisting. Hiccup cried out at the pain, but moved into it nonetheless.

“Did you miss this, baby?”

Hiccup gave no answer, just curved into him and tilted his head back, letting his eyes close. One hand left him, and he wondered why until it connected with his face in a slap.

“Look at me,” Dagur commanded sternly, and Hiccup did, not wanting to be slapped again. Though, despite the fact that he’d hurt him, there was something akin to reverence in Dagur’s eyes.

“There’s a good boy. My good Hiccup.” Then his eyes left his, raked over his body. “You know, you’d be really pretty with a nice jeweled collar. I’ll have to get you one sometime.” One finger traced up the side of his cock and Hiccup gasped and wiggled his hips. He was so desperate to be touched there, and Dagur was barely giving it to him. He let go of his nipple, leaving it stinging, to press a hand to his hip to hold him still. Then he just continued touching him with that one finger, and Hiccup struggled against his hand.

“Oh gods, brother, look how badly you want me.” Then Dagur was shuffling himself down his body, and he lowered his head, flicked his tongue lightly at the head of his cock. He now held him down with both his hands, fingers crushing around his hips. Hiccup could do nothing but groan and gasp and struggle as his tongue came out and touched him again for the barest second.

 _Dagur, please stop teasing me like this,_ he pleaded silently. _Just give it to me please._ He was worried that it was another ploy to get him to talk, but Dagur hadn’t said anything about it being so, had made no promises that if he begged with his words rather than his body that he would give him what he wanted. He simply liked to torment him.

The torment ended, Dagur finally taking him into his mouth. Hiccup moaned loudly in gratification as he took him all the way into his throat. His hands let go of his hips, one stroking over his right thigh while the other massaged his balls. Hiccup was hoping he didn’t expect him to last very long like this.

Hiccup felt like he’d been punched by reality as he neared climax. This was Dagur doing this to him. Dagur the Deranged, and he hated him with everything he had. Why was he letting him do this? Why was he not fighting?

_Because I can’t fight him. He’ll hurt me. He’ll hurt someone else._

Dagur pulled off of him right before he could reach his end, and Hiccup was left gasping, staring at him wide eyed. Dagur. This was Dagur, the same man who said he loved him but liked to hurt him.

“Hiccup, what’s the matter?”

He just shook his head, incapable of saying anything. He wanted to cry, but he couldn’t. Not now. He turned his head away.

“No, no, baby, look at me.” Dagur climbed back up him, took his jaw in a bruising grip and forced his head back towards him. “What’s the matter?” he asked again though he knew he couldn’t answer. He searched his eyes intently, and Hiccup felt more violated than he had when Dagur was touching him. “What are you scared of?” 

Hiccup hadn’t realized that he was scared, but of course he was. He was scared of that part of himself that wanted Dagur to do this to him, that wanted him so desperately that it kept the arousal from fleeing his body. He was scared of how he’d just accepted this, how he’d come to terms with the fact that this would be his life. He was afraid of this being his life. He didn’t want it to be, but he had no other choice.

But then he calmed himself by telling himself it wouldn’t be exactly like this. He wouldn’t be chained up. He’d have an entire castle to himself. He’d have a nice big bed. That would all be with Dagur, but that would be okay. He’d be okay.

Of course, he didn’t answer Dagur, having no way to. So Dagur just kissed him on the mouth, told him everything would be okay, and put his hand back between his legs where it belonged.

 

Dagur made love to Hiccup that time. He wanted to fuck him hard, mercilessly, but he couldn’t. Not after he’d seen that fear in Hiccup’s eyes, and certainly not after he’d tried killing himself. He’d been gentler with him since then, concerned for his wellbeing. Every time he’d tell Hiccup not to do that ever again, he’d nod, but of course Dagur was still worried. And then there had been that fear in his eyes. 

Though, the fear was gone now, replaced with unabated lust and desire. It was almost asking Dagur to fuck him harder, but he wouldn’t. His movements remained slow and steady, and it was almost agony to do so. He wanted more of Hiccup. He wanted more. With each thrust he tried to go deeper, pressing into him so desperately, pushing against him till the contact hurt his hips and pelvis, and no doubt hurt Hiccup too. He had Hiccup’s legs over his arms, his hands holding his hips, and Hiccup clutched at the back of his neck with his good hand, the other flung out uselessly to the side. His mouth was open in an endless stream of sound: moans that would turn into tiny yelps when he pressed against his prostate. Dagur loved it, wanted to kiss him, but that would stop the sounds. 

His body looked so perfect under him. He’d missed having all his skin bared to him, had missed seeing every inch of what was his, had especially missed seeing the brand. Hiccup’s ribs were showing a little bit, a sign that he hadn’t been eating right, but it didn’t do much to take away from his beauty. Dagur would just have to make sure that he ate, even if that meant staying with him for every meal.

The only part of him that wasn’t perfect were the bruises around his neck: dark, awful things that spread out from under the collar, a terrible reminder of what he’d done to himself. Dagur wished they were gone already. It hurt his chest every time he looked at them. 

But then he looked back to his face and everything was alright again. His eyes on him, pupils wide with arousal, his mouth open and pouring out those lovely sounds for him… Dagur picked up his pace a little, but only a little. He wanted to be gentle and treat him with care, show him that his body was meant to be revered. And so he lowered his mouth to his skin to worship him. If Hiccup thought he was revered and honored - no, _realized_ it - then maybe he wouldn’t try to kill himself again. Maybe he’d see the value that Dagur saw in him.

Hiccup dug his nails into the back of Dagur’s neck when he came, and the feeling of his muscles rippling around him and the sound of his shout pulled his own orgasm from him. He growled and cursed, bowed his head into his shoulder. Then, unable to help himself, he bit him when it reached its peak, hard, and Hiccup yelled again as the taste of blood flooded his mouth. Dagur simply groaned.

When the both of them had finished he withdrew his teeth. Hiccup glanced at the wound in shock, then at him, clearly wanting an explanation.

“Sorry, Hiccup, I didn’t mean to bite that hard.” Dagur licked his blood off of his lips, almost enjoying the coppery taste of it. “Honest.” He withdrew from Hiccup’s body and released his legs, then bent down to lick the cum off of his stomach, greedy about doing it. This substance of Hiccup’s tasted good too.

When he was just about finished, he could feel Hiccup’s manhood poking at his chest, craving attention once again. It had gotten to the point where Hiccup needed to cum at least two times before truly being done, and Dagur didn’t mind, more than happy to accommodate his body’s needs. 

Still, he chuckled. “You insatiable little slut,” he teased before taking him into his mouth again. Hiccup whined and bucked into him, hitting the back of his throat. Dagur swatted his thigh for the movement and he went still, let him take him fully at his own pace. 

Soon - he couldn’t help it - Dagur was becoming aroused again as well. With a growl, he pulled off of Hiccup, grabbed at his waist, and flipped him over onto his stomach. He plunged back into his body, loved the way he cried out at it. This time, he didn’t make love to him.


	69. Chapter 68

Astrid was shaky on Toothless. She’d flown him before, but only briefly, and when Hiccup had been behind her instructing her on what to do. She didn’t know how he did it with hardly a thought. There was so much more to it than flying her own dragon, so many little technicalities, but Hiccup had always made it look so easy.

She’d taken Toothless out two hours after the sun had gone down, and an hour after speaking with Tuffnut. He’d darted out at full speed, more than elated to be in the air again, though now he seemed frustrated with Astrid’s difficulties flying him. She was too. She wanted to attack on Stormfly, but Toothless made the most sense. He wouldn’t be seen at all. If Hiccup had told Viggo to play with the light and the dark, then she was going to give it back to him.

Heather and the Dragon Riders had wanted to go with her, but this was the best way. Toothless could see what they couldn’t in the dark, and he could hide better than the other dragons. 

“Toothless, do you think we’re ready?” She’d been practicing flying, first simple laps around the island, then more difficult things. They’d woven through the forest and the worst they’d encountered was Astrid having to duck last second under a branch because she hadn’t calculated the move correctly. Toothless seemed as sharp as ever, not like he’d been grounded for over two months.

Toothless made a warbling sound that she knew to be an affirmation. 

“Okay. Then let’s do this.”

She and Toothless darted above the treeline. She looked out to the sea. None of the lights on the ships were lit. She wasn’t sure of where to attack first, but then she figured that any attack would be better than none. And best of all, they wouldn’t be able to fire back, wouldn’t be able to see what had hit them.

They headed towards the northern side of the island, where the Hunters had originally come from. 

“One of the bigger ships, okay, Toothless?”

Toothless opened his mouth and let out a whistling sound, then veered downwards and to the right. He let off a blinding, purple blast of plasma, and there was the sound of it hitting wood, splintering it and exploding it. There were shouts, and Astrid clutched tight to the saddle as Toothless did a barrel roll and shot again. Then again. The quick succession left purple-white bars of an afterimage across the night in her eyes. The ship sprouted up in flame, and Toothless let off two more blasts to take down the masts and bring them crashing down and to the deck. Astrid was sure that that had trapped some Dragon Hunters underneath them. Anything to reduce their numbers was good. Toothless shot one more time, right where water was lapping at the hull. It blew a hole straight into it, and Astrid could see water began to rush in by the light of the fires.

Before anyone could hope to gather themselves and fire back, Astrid headed back for the island to give Toothless time to recharge for another attack. They weren’t done yet.

 

“What the bloody Hel was _that?!_ ” Ryker shouted, jabbing a finger out at the ship that had turned on its side and was steadily going up in flame. 

Viggo clenched his hands angrily around the gunwale. “Night Fury!” he exclaimed. “That doesn’t make sense! Hiccup said that he’s the only one who can ride it.”

“Well, fuck what Hiccup said. _Someone’s_ obviously riding it! He must have lied to you.”

Viggo tightened his grip, imagining that the wood under his hands was Hiccup’s neck. “And we can’t shoot it because we can’t see it.”

“Can’t we try?”

“It’ll waste supplies.” Viggo let go of the gunwale, thinking he’d taken enough of his frustration out on it. “We can send an order along for the ships on the southern side of the island to put on their lights and lure them towards it.”

“Would that work? They only attacked once because of the lights.”

Viggo ground his teeth together. Ryker had a point. “We’ll try it anyway,” he decided. “We can’t just sit here.” He tried to make himself relax. “Besides, it’s just one dragon. It can’t keep it up forever. Eventually the Night Fury will have to rest, and so will the rider.”

 

Heather and the Dragon Riders were waiting for Astrid as she landed back at the clubhouse. When she dismounted, Heather’s arms were there for her. Her face reddened a little. They had yet to tell their friends about their relationship, didn’t know how they would take it. Luckily, that was all Heather did. She stepped back, hand lingering in hers for a bit.

“Astrid, we saw you take out that ship!” Fishlegs exclaimed. “Well, not really ’cause we can’t see Toothless at all, but we saw the ship go up in flames. Great job!”

“Thanks.” Astrid patted Toothless on the head. “I don’t know how Hiccup does it. He made it look so easy.”

“And he’ll keep making it look easy when we get him back,” Heather assured her, assured all of them. “We’ll get him back after we deal with these Dragon Hunters.”

“Yeah, but Toothless is just one dragon,” Snotlout said. “You guys are getting all hopeful but-” He shrugged. 

“Any progress is better than no progress, my friend,” Ruffnut said. “Now, Astrid, let’s get you something to eat before you have to go out again. Can’t fight on an empty stomach.”

Astrid nodded and followed her friends into the clubhouse. Ruffnut was right. Any progress was better than no progress.

 

“They’re not taking the bait,” Ryker growled in frustration, standing with his arms folded over his chest. The lights had been on for close to a half hour now, but there had been no more attacks.

“Remember, brother, a Night Fury has a six shot limit,” Viggo said evenly. “That ship was taken down with exactly six shots, so the dragon and the rider have to wait. So do we.”

“And what’s your plan after tonight? More waiting?” Ryker strode over to him. “Today was the last day we see the sun for two weeks, Viggo, and we’ve only been attacking with the sun. I’m getting awfully tired of this.”

Viggo rolled his eyes. “Ryker, a siege usually entails waiting. Eventually they’ll run out of food and supplies. Part of the plan is to starve them out.”

“Well, that takes too long,” Ryker grumbled.

“Too bad. We’re doing it this way. Unless of course we want to do it your way, which ended up with you being thoroughly defeated by only two Dragon Riders with one dragon.”

“I told you that it was only a lost cause when Hiccup and the other Riders showed up with that flock of wild dragons. We were holding just fine before that!” Ryker threw his hands up.

“Yes, well, holding makes it sound like you were on the _de_ fensive rather than the _of_ fensive,” Viggo stated. He wasn’t going to take any of this from Ryker. This plan would work, but it wouldn’t work swiftly. It wasn’t meant to. “Now shut up and go check on the torches. We may have to light them all tonight.”

 

“Hiccup, you have to eat.”

Hiccup frowned a little. He remembered when Bryn had said the same thing to him, but now it was just Dagur. He’d never hear her voice again, never have her trying to look after him. Now all he had was Dagur, and that was all he would ever have.

He had him seated at the table in front of a small feast: meat, bread, vegetables, dried fruit, and of course there was some form of alcohol to top it off. Hiccup didn’t think there was enough to get drunk on though.

 _Too bad._ Hiccup liked being drunk. If he was drunk he didn’t have to feel, didn’t have to care. It numbed the pain, both inside and out.

He looked at the food, then looked down at his hands in his lap. Something trailed down his nose and plopped onto his hand. A tear. He waited for more to come, but there were none.

“Hiccup, come on.” Dagur had his hands on the back of his chair, leaning on it, and it felt like he was looming over him. “You have to eat. You’re too thin.”

 _Oh, so you care?_ he thought cynically. Hiccup knew Dagur was right though. He’d been wondering when he’d actually admit to noticing and try to do something about it. He lifted his head and looked over the food again. He knew he should have felt hungry, should have wanted to eat, but he didn’t. The gnawing emptiness he felt inside wasn’t hunger.

“Please, Hiccup.” One of Dagur’s hands fell from the chair to his shoulder. “Eating’s good for you. I don’t know _why_ you’re not eating, but-”

He paused as Hiccup reached for his journal and charcoal that sat in the corner of the table. He’d been communicating with Dagur through writing instead of trying to talk. It felt a little strange, but it was better than not letting his thoughts be known at all. 

When he finished writing he showed Dagur the page.

**I’m not hungry.**

Dagur moved around to the side of his chair and Hiccup met his gaze, could see the frustration in it.

“Hiccup, how the Hel are you not hungry?! When was the last time you ate?”

Hiccup thought, but he didn’t have an answer for it. He shrugged.

Dagur rolled his eyes. “Oh my gods, are you fucking _serious?_ ”

Hiccup just shrugged again. He hoped Dagur wouldn’t get angry enough to hit him, but it was the only answer he could give. He truly didn’t remember.

Dagur growled a little in his throat. “Well then you’re going to eat now! I’m not gonna have you starving yourself!” Very suddenly, his eyes softened, as if he’d only just realized something. “Hiccup, you’re not… doing it to kill yourself, are you?”

It was Hiccup’s turn to roll his eyes.

**I already told you that I’m not going to try to kill myself again.**

Dagur looked at it, worked his jaw a little. “Yeah, I know, I just… I’m worried about you, okay?”

Hiccup almost wrote that he didn’t have to worry and that he was fine, but they would both know that that wasn’t true. So, he didn’t write anything.

After a few moments in silence, Dagur said gently: “Hiccup, please eat. If not for you then for me.”

Once again, Hiccup kept his thoughts to himself. Why would he want to do anything for Dagur? He had though, countless times now, so he kept it to himself. It was just a contradiction. He didn’t make a move towards the food though.

“What if I told you it was an order? And you know what happens when you don’t obey my orders.” The threat in his voice was real. Hiccup sneered a little.

**So you’d hurt me for not eating because you care? How does that make sense?**

“Um, it, uh…” Dagur scratched at the back of his head, thinking. “Okay, okay, I won’t hurt you, but you have to eat anyway.” Hiccup didn’t make a move to do so, and Dagur clasped his hands in front of him. “Please?”

Hiccup tapped his charcoal in the journal. What was the point in fighting against this? But… there was no point in eating. No point at all. He wasn’t trying to kill himself, but he just couldn’t eat.

Dagur abruptly took the journal and the charcoal from his hands, and Hiccup glared a little, not liking that he was taking away his only method of communication. 

“Hiccup, look, if you eat I’ll let you…” He paused, clearly thinking of what he could offer him in return. Hiccup just waited, curious to what he would say. “I’ll let you top me.”

Hiccup raised his eyebrows in surprise. He hadn’t expected Dagur to offer such a thing, seeing as he was the more dominating type. He didn’t think he’d take the offer though. The two times he’d been inside Dagur he’d hated it more than anything else. All it did was make him think of Astrid and how he was betraying her, how she must hate him for what was happening. He shook his head.

Dagur put the journal and charcoal down where it had originally been at the corner of the table, came close to him. One hand grabbed his collar and pulled him towards him, the other sneaking under his robe to caress his thigh. Then he kissed him and Hiccup sighed into it a little. He opened his legs, expecting for Dagur’s hand to go between them, ready for it to, but it didn’t. He snuck his tongue into the kiss, but only for the barest second, and Hiccup groaned in what might have been frustration. He pulled away, still holding onto the collar.

“There. Now you’re going to eat or I won’t take care of that growing problem between your legs for you.” His hand went farther up his thigh, almost touching his cock. Hiccup tried moving into him, but Dagur let go of him, straightened and took a step back. “No. Eat.”

Hiccup hated that this was a good incentive to get him to eat. He and Dagur both knew that he needed sex, that he was almost willing to jump on him for it. Now he had this awful burning in his body that wasn’t going to go away unless Dagur did something about it, and he wasn’t going to unless he ate. So, Hiccup turned back to the table, and began to eat while Dagur’s eyes bored holes into him.

 

“That’s it, Hiccup! That’s it!” 

Hiccup wanted to tell Dagur to stop shouting right in his ear. The position had his back right against him, his ear right near his mouth. He was using his knees to move on his length, and Dagur had one arm wrapped tight around his abdomen, his other hand on his cock. 

Though, Dagur stopped shouting to kiss hungrily at the side of his face. Hiccup hated and loved it all at once. He hated and loved every sensation he was feeling. The confusing mix of emotion created an ache in his throat, and he let it out as a sob. Tears fell from his eyes, down his cheeks and onto Dagur’s lips. Hiccup hoped that he thought it was from the pleasure; it partially was. It was so deep, so strong and intensely satisfying, that a few of his tears were from that as well.

But then Dagur pulled his mouth away, squeezed at his ribs.

“Hiccup, why the fuck are you crying?” There was a hint of anger in his voice, so Hiccup worked harder on him, his movements making him thrust into his hand. Hopefully it wouldn’t matter to Dagur that he was crying if he just gave him what he wanted, if he gave both of them what they wanted.

Though, the movement made Hiccup cry harder, louder. He didn’t know why, didn’t understand. What was he crying over?

“Baby, sh, stop crying, stop crying.” Dagur pressed his hands into his thighs. “You can slow down if you don’t want it like that. It’s okay.”

Hiccup slowed, but then eventually stopped. Then that just left him sitting pathetically on Dagur’s cock and crying over who knew what. He wanted to stop. He had to stop, and he told himself with each breath he pulled in that he would, but they were always released as sobs.

“Sh, baby, shh.” Dagur ran his hands soothingly along his abdomen. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” He kissed at his face, interrupting his trail of tears. “Do you not like it like this? Do you want me on top?”

Hiccup thought for a moment, then nodded. That could be what it was, though it seemed like a pretty pathetic thing to cry over. 

“Okay, you want it on your back or your stomach?”

There were pros and cons to both. If Hiccup was on his stomach he wouldn’t have to look at Dagur, but if he was on his back the front of his body could be bared to him to let him pleasure him as he wished. He knew he didn’t have the option of not doing this, though part of him wished he did, wished that he didn’t have to do this with Dagur to please him and his own body’s terrible appetite for it.

“Hiccup, pick one or I’ll pick it for you.” Dagur’s voice was stern. “I’m sure you’d like being on your hands and knees with your fingers still hurting and all.” 

Hiccup moved off of Dagur, rolled around to lay on his back. 

“Good choice.” Then Dagur was settling himself on top of him, though he didn’t return to his body yet. He pressed his lips carefully to the black bruising on his throat, hands falling to caress up and down his sides. Hiccup was crying still, but not as hard, his attempt at even breathing working to calm him down. He told himself he could cry over whatever stupid thing was bothering him later when Dagur wasn’t around.

“Hiccup, I love you.” He kissed his collarbone. “I know you don’t love me back.” He kissed his brand. “Not yet, but you will.”

Hiccup opened his mouth, ready to tell him that he loved him, just to appease him, just to make his life easier, but a moan slipped out instead of words as Dagur dipped his hips down and slid his cock against his. Then he was taking him by his thighs, lifting his legs, and pushing back in. Hiccup tilted his head back, and this time Dagur let him close his eyes. He forgot all about loving him as he took ahold of his bruised hips and made pain flare through him, forgot all about crying as he pounded into him rhythmically and gave his body what it needed. And when he eventually came he forgot all about pleasure and entered a world of agony. Dagur didn’t stop, but he wanted him to, _needed_ him to just stop, please stop, but he wouldn’t. It wouldn’t have mattered had he told him to and begged him to. He wouldn’t have cared. 

Then agony became its cousin pleasure, returning to exist stronger than it had before. It didn’t matter. Hiccup still wanted Dagur to stop, wanted him to stop finding his body’s limits and then plowing right through them like this. But then Dagur told him - no, ordered _him_ \- to touch himself and he had no choice. Denying Dagur only ended badly, only ended in pain and blood, so he did as he was told, wanting to avoid his wrath. This part of him that just wanted him for sex was better than the part that grew angry and liked to punish him.

His own touch, coupled with the blazing pleasure Dagur was creating inside, served to make him climax again, much harder than he had before. He spasmed underneath him, pumping his cock feverishly so that sensation became a white-hot, beautiful burning under his hand that overtook his entire body. Dagur finished in him as he convulsed, and the sensation was so achingly sweet that his screams rose in pitch. He hadn’t even realized he’d been screaming.

Then it was done and he was drifting in a sea of buzzing bliss, wondering why he’d hated this so much. He was pulled from it by a hand caressing his face, pulled back to the gritty reality of his heaving breaths and the mess on his stomach and Dagur’s heavy body against his. Then he remembered all the reasons he hated it, but he couldn’t tell him he hated it, couldn’t show him that he did. It wasn’t his place to. So when Dagur kissed him on the mouth he kissed back like he was supposed to, and buried the hatred inside of him.

Dagur cleaned him off with his tongue, even going so far as to lick at the head of his oversensitive cock and make him grit his teeth and whimper in his throat. Luckily that didn’t last long, and he was rolling him onto his side and taking him into his arms. For long minutes he was silent, just breathing into his ear and against his neck. He trailed one hand over his hip and he did his best not to flinch at the pain his touch caused.

“So, Hiccup, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

Hiccup made a sound to show that he was listening.

“When I go back to Berzerk, which will hopefully be soon, would you be my advisor?”

Hiccup hadn’t expected the question. He knew that Dagur told him he wasn’t his sex slave, but it seemed that that was all he saw him as and treated him as. And now he was asking him to be something more than that, asking him to have an important role in his leadership.

Hiccup easily made his decision. He nodded. He wanted to be more than this, wanted to be human again. He couldn’t believe that it was actually Dagur that was offering him such a thing, offering him a way to be human and to be seen and treated as such.

“Really? You will?”

Hiccup nodded again.

“Awesome. Thank you, Hiccup.” Dagur kissed him on the cheek. “And if you still can’t talk then you can just write everything down.”

Hiccup was a little horrified at the idea of still not being able to talk by then. It made him wonder if maybe he’d never be able to talk again, if maybe he’d just be mute for the rest of his life. He knew Dagur was trying to be patient with him, but he knew that his patience couldn’t last forever, that eventually he’d get sick of it and hurt him. He always hurt him. That was just proven true by how painful his touch seemed on his hips, though he was being gentle. He tried shifting away from him, but Dagur grabbed onto him to keep him there, and he gasped. He wanted to tell him to let go and that he was hurting him, but his journal was on the table near all the empty dishes and he couldn’t walk… Not that he would listen anyway. He wondered when Dagur would give him his prosthetic back. When he got ahold of his journal he could ask him.

“Mm.” Dagur buried his nose into his hair, breathed a contented sigh. “I wanna stay but I have things to do. Last I heard from my scouts, Heather had captured the guy on the council that works for me. Like, I wasn’t too concerned when I heard that she had that other guy ’cause he was too low ranking to know where I was, but this guy they have _does_ know where I am. Maybe I should just go out and fight her instead of playing around and hiding. What do you think?”

What Hiccup was thinking was that he was tempted to dig his elbow into Dagur’s stomach. He didn’t want to discuss this in any way. Though, he figured that no matter what happened his captivity would just continue. He knew he didn’t want to escape, but he was now unsure of how he felt about being rescued. 

_Doesn’t matter. I won’t be rescued anyway. They either don’t care or they’re dead._

The thought hurt like an arrow to the chest, but it had to be true. Those had to be the reasons that he was still stuck here with Dagur. And it wouldn’t matter even if he was rescued. He’d still belong to him. He’d always belong to him.

Instead of hitting him or revealing what he was feeling, he just twisted around and raised his eyebrows at him. Dagur was probably hoping he would speak, but he wouldn’t do that.

“Oh, right, sorry.” Dagur peeled himself off of him and stood, came back over with the journal as Hiccup was sitting up. That movement hurt his hips too. Dagur handed him the journal, then sat with his head resting on his shoulder as he wrote.

**Do you know if the guy is gonna talk?**

“I mean, I don’t know. He’s pretty resilient, I guess. Wouldn’t have gotten the job if he wasn’t.”

 **I honestly don’t know then** , Hiccup wrote, hoping that Dagur would be okay with that answer. **I don’t think I can help you with this one.**

“Why? Hitting too close to home? Still hoping someone’s going to find you?”

Hiccup didn’t know how to respond to that. His shoulders sagged a little. He just wrote: **No.** He thought for a bit. **I’m okay with you.**

Dagur sat up straight. “Really?” he asked excitedly.

Hiccup just nodded. He figured he was okay with it. What else was there for him? All he had was Dagur. All he had was this life that he’d had thrust upon him.

“Oh, Hiccup, that’s excellent!” Dagur hugged him hard, and his lips sought out his. “That’s excellent. I love you, I love you.” He kissed him again, put his head back on his shoulder. His next words were a whisper: “I love you.”

Hiccup had to keep his fingers from writing: _I hate you._


	70. Chapter 69

Astrid paid no attention to the lights that had gone up in the south. She knew that it was just a ploy for attention, a way to get her and Toothless into the light where they would be visible, and if they were visible, they could be shot at. She instead went to the west, farther from where they had taken down the first ship. She almost expected to be shot at, not used to riding on a dragon that was invisible in the dark.

They took down a second ship with no difficulties, and as she was flying back towards the Edge to give Toothless a break to recharge his shots, lights came on in the west as well, near the sinking ship. 

"Hold on, Toothless." She pulled back a little to stop him, and they hovered between the sea and the island. She watched as more lights flickered on, one ship after the other. Then the sea looked like it was full of flame, in a ring surrounding the Edge. 

"Dammit," Astrid muttered under her breath. They were trying to keep her and Toothless from attacking. With all that light they would be seen, and they could be taken down. "Okay, Toothless, come on. Back to the Edge. Gotta form a new plan."

"Astrid, what's happening?" Fishlegs asked urgently as she landed back at the clubhouse. "We saw that ship go down and then all the lights went on!"

"They want to keep us from attacking," Astrid sneered. "Because if they can see us-"

"They can shoot at you," Heather finished. Astrid nodded.

"So, guys, is that a problem?" Tuffnut asked, pointing over Astrid's shoulder. She turned just in time to see a flaming boulder slam into one of the walls. It sent rock flying and parts of the wall tumbling down, crashing into lower cliffs.

"We have to get out there!" Heather shouted. She took off at a run, probably heading for the stables, but Astrid managed to grab her by the wrist as she darted past.

"No. _We_ have to get out there and fight," Astrid told her. " _You_ stay here."

"Come on, Astrid, I can fight with you guys."

"Not happening, Heather!" Ruffnut stepped close to her. "You're pregnant if you haven't forgotten."

"I know that." Heather pulled herself from Astrid's grip. "But that doesn't mean I can't go and fight."

"Yeah, actually, it does," Snotlout agreed. "You don't have to just worry about your own safety anymore."

Heather turned on the rest of the Dragon Riders, and Astrid got a glimpse of how desperate she looked before her back was turned to her. "Guys, I'll be fine. Come on. This is ridiculous and we're wasting time talking about it." After her words, another boulder hit, and it made the wood under their feet rattle.

"Heather, we're not wasting time." Fishlegs spoke much more gently than the rest of them. "This isn't just you. It's your baby too."

"Yeah, don't be selfish," Snotlout said.

"I'm..." Heather's hands curled into fists. "I'm not being selfish!" Her voice was suddenly a shriek. “I just want to help!”

Astrid reached out a hand for Heather’s shoulder, but she moved away from her touch. 

"And maybe I don't even _want_ this baby! You all just assumed that I did, that I was okay with it! If going into battle causes a miscarriage, then so fucking be it! I can't just sit around and do _nothing!_ "

The Riders were silent in the aftermath of Heather's words, unsure of what to say.

"But, Heather, that's not good for you either..." Ruffnut said sadly. "It's not just the baby we're all worried about. It's you too. You're our friend and we don't want anything bad to happen to you."

For a few moments Heather didn't say anything, hands still clenched into fists. "Fine," she ceded. "But don't you dare leave me out of it if you need help." Then she stamped past all of them and into the clubhouse.

 

In her anger, Heather had forgotten all about Gobber, who'd been staying in the clubhouse with them. She veered away from the table and sat down hard on a stool in the corner, crossing her arms.

"Heather, what's going on?" Gobber asked, concerned.

Heather waved a hand towards the door. "Go talk to them. The Dragon Hunters started attacking."

That had Gobber leaving the clubhouse as fast as his one foot and peg-leg could carry him. Then Heather was alone, though she probably wouldn't be for long. She should just go to Astrid's hut, but she didn't want to get up, didn't want to move.

She could understand why they didn't want her fighting, why they were concerned for her safety. She knew she should have been caring about her own safety as well, that it seemed stupid that she wasn't.

But she just didn't want this baby. She wanted nothing to do with it, and if there was a way to get rid of it before even giving birth, she would take it. Though, she couldn't believe that she'd said it in front of everyone, that she'd let her friends know the dark thoughts that only Astrid knew of. What would they think of her now?

Then Heather looked down at her growing abdomen, laid a hand on it. She suddenly didn't know what she was feeling. To get rid of this would be killing. There was a life inside of her.

_I've killed before. I'll do it again._

_But it's just a baby. It never did anything. It doesn't deserve it._

"I'm sorry," Heather whispered. She didn't truly know what she was apologizing for. Was only thinking of killing the baby enough to warrant an apology?

She was startled from her thoughts by someone sitting next to her. She looked to see Gobber. She hadn't even heard him come back in.

"What's on your mind, lass?"

Heather liked how he didn't refer to her in any formal way, that though she was chief of the Berserkers, he treated her the same as he had before.

"Um, just... I want to fight," she answered. "But they won't let me."

"Can't help but agree with them," Gobber said. "It's no good to fight on a dragon in your condition."

"I know that. I do. I know it's not safe for the baby and it's not safe for me." Heather put her head in her hands. It would look weak, but it would be better than showing her forming tears. "But I don't... I can't bring myself to care. I don't _want_ this _baby_ , Gobber."

"I'm not going to ask who the father is, but what about him? Do you know what he wants?" Gobber questioned gently. Heather was grateful that he wasn't asking for the father's identity. That was something that only she and the Dragon Riders knew about, and she didn't know whether she'd ever tell anybody else.

"I mean, I don't even know if he knows I'm pregnant," Heather replied. "He might, given that..." She trailed off. She'd been going to say something about how it was a little likely given that he'd had people spying on her, but that would give away who it was. "But if he does know I'm pregnant he doesn't know that he's the father." She still wanted to cry, but luckily the tears were stopping, and the tears that had come had come silently and without sobs. She wiped at her face, lifted her head to Gobber. 

"I don't know how he'd feel about it and I don't care. If I have it my way he'll never know that it's his."

"But shouldn't he get to know?" The question was just curious, not judgmental.

Heather snorted. "No. He'd make an awful father anyway. And I'm hoping that soon I won't ever have to see him again."

"So you don't like him."

"I hate him, actually."

"Hm, I see." Gobber tapped at his chin with his hook, a look of worry passing over his face. "It was consensual, right. He didn't...? There's no one I have to go out and pummel for you, is there? Not saying you can't handle yourself - just that if-"

"Gobber, it's fine." Heather laid a hand on his shoulder. "I wasn't raped." Saying the word put a strange sensation in her stomach. Dagur hadn't raped _her_ , but that certainly didn't mean he was above it. That's what he was doing to Hiccup and they all knew it. She wanted to say that she was going to kill the father regardless of whether he'd raped her or not, but once again, that would give away that it was Dagur. Even now she was wondering if Gobber had enough to put two and two together. He certainly wasn't stupid. It was probably beginning to cross his mind. She knew that he wouldn't try to guess though, that he would leave her with her secret.

"Okay, good. Just had to make sure. So, back to the original problem. You don't want this baby, but you have no choice in having it. You know that right?"

Heather nodded a little reluctantly. "Yeah, I guess." Heather wasn't going to tell Gobber about those awful times in the middle of the night when she couldn't sleep and she thought of cutting it out of herself, when she just became so overwhelmed by her life and all the problems in it that she thought of committing suicide. Cutting the baby out of herself would probably do that too. 

She'd probably faint of blood loss before she even finished, and then she'd just bleed out and die. She'd thought of it more often than she would ever admit to anyone. She wouldn't even tell Astrid, because then Astrid would just worry more, and she didn't want her to. Astrid already had enough to worry about. She didn't need this extra thing to weigh down on her and keep her up at night. But then she thought about going out and fighting, about if there was a way to induce a miscarriage. She didn't know what the consequences to herself would be though.

"Have you thought about what you want to do after you have it?" Gobber asked. "Legally the father has to be at the birth, but there have been exceptions, and one can be made for this."

"I was thinking of adoption," Heather told him. "Giving it to a family who couldn't have a child or who just wanted another one. I was adopted so..." She just shrugged. "Seems like a good option." She wouldn't kill it once it was born, wouldn't leave it out in the woods where the biting cold and the wind would steal its life.

 _Then why do I want to kill it now?_ she asked herself. She was beginning to get awfully confused about what she was feeling. She looked down at her abdomen again. There was a _life_ growing in there. There was.

"That's certainly the less cruel option," Gobber agreed. "But are you sure you wouldn't want to raise it? It is your baby, after all."

"I don't think I can. I..." Heather was trailing off a lot, unable to really articulate her thoughts. She'd been about to say that she hated it, but now that the words were right on her tongue, it didn't feel right. She'd hated it before, but she didn't now. She didn't know why, but she didn't hate it. She hated Dagur and she hated the circumstances, hated that she was actually pregnant, but she no longer hated the baby. She certainly didn't like the baby though, and it didn't deserve a mother like that, didn't deserve a mother that would just see it and be able to think of nothing but its monstrous father.

 _No, not it. Them_ , Heather corrected. She didn't know the baby's gender yet, but that didn't make it not a human being. She had a _human_ inside of her. She was going to be a mother to a _human_ , a human with thoughts and feelings. The baby was not an _it_. "I don't like them. The baby, that is. I don't like them, don't love them, and they're going to need someone to take care of them that does." _And preferably someone that doesn't know Dagur and his reputation._

"I see. It's a good choice, Heather." Gobber looked thoughtful for a moment. "Can I at least ask how far along you are?"

Heather didn't see any harm in that. "Um, four months, I think. I don't know for sure."

"You should probably see Gothi," Gobber suggested. "She'd be able to tell you. And keep track of your health. That's important when you’re pregnant. Have to stay healthy."

“Yeah, I guess,” Heather agreed a little reluctantly. She didn’t know what seeing Gothi would entail, found herself a little nervous at the idea of it. 

_I’ll take Astrid with me._

“But only after Hiccup’s found. We’re going to find him as soon as this siege is over. I know it.”

 

Gobber left the clubhouse after talking to Heather, who seemed better off for it. He looked out towards the sea, towards the battle raging on. The auxiliary riders had joined, but it didn’t do much to even the odds. They were being hit from all sides, and it was like the island shook with it. It was hard to tell in the dark, but it looked like the Dragon Riders were protecting the fleet, keeping them from being crushed between the Dragon Hunters and the Edge’s cliffs.

 _Gotta get Stoick._

He limped off towards Stoick’s hut, where it had been built on one of the hilltops. He hoped that he was there and not at Hiccup’s hut. He didn’t want to find him in there again, didn’t even want to go there himself. Gobber avoided the place, not liking the reminder that it served.

He knew he should have been mad at Stoick for not already being there, for not doing his job as chief, but he just couldn’t bring himself to be. He was too tired to be angry, and he understood why he was acting like this and isolating himself.

There was nothing grand about Stoick's hut. It wasn't even that much bigger than anyone else's. There had been no point in decorating it or making it stand out. Upon arriving, Gobber knocked on the door. He could see light seeping out from under it, so he was awake. He doubted Stoick slept much anyway. He hoped that he'd gotten at least some sleep in the past few days though.

Much to Gobber's surprise, the door opened as soon as he knocked, and he stood back a little to let Stoick step out. He looked alert, ready for a fight, but still tired. There were dark circles under his eyes, and over the past few weeks Gobber had noticed wisps of gray entering his hair and beard.

"They're attacking, aren't they?"

"Aye, and from all sides too," Gobber answered. Stoick wasn't looking at him, eyes scanning the ocean. "I don't think we stand much of a chance."

Stoick began walking at a brisk pace, most likely heading for the stables to get Skullcrusher. "We'll just have to hold till the Berserkers get here. That should be tomorrow, right?"

"By the morning if everything went smoothly," Gobber answered.

"Then I hope to Thor it did."

"Wait, Stoick." Gobber had to jog a little to catch up to him. He moved faster given that he was taller and had both his legs. "How are you doing? Are you alright?"

"Don't ask me those questions, Gobber." There was anger in his voice. "You know what the answer is. Don't worry about me. Go and check that all the catapults are in position. If any walls came down or are close to it, get people to work fixing it. I won't let this island be taken, because after that they'll just come for Berk. We have to beat them here."

"You got it, chief. Mind giving me a lift on Skullcrusher though?"

Stoick nodded before quickening his pace. They both had work to do.

 

Stormfly fought beside Astrid and Toothless. She didn't seem to mind that Astrid was riding a different dragon, just seemed more focused on the battle at hand. She was well trained and didn't need a Rider to fight, flawlessly exciting all of Astrid's commands.

Astrid felt uneasy on Toothless now that she was dodging arrows, ballista bolts, and catapult fire, but she couldn't just let the dragon sit this out. He was powerful and they needed him. He was fighting fiercely, using energy that had been pent up from not flying for so long, and probably ferocity at not having Hiccup. He must have understood somehow that after this fight was done, they would go and get him.

"Astrid!" Snotlout's call broke through the din of battle."I just saw one of the walls went down on the lower beaches!" He flew up beside her on Hookfang, dodging a few arrows on the way over. He was without his armor and so was Toothless. They hadn't had time for it. "They're getting through!"

“I’ll handle it! Stormfly, you stay here and help them!”

Her dragon squawked in understanding, then she and Snotlout took off towards one of the ships, most likely to rid them of catapults. Astrid pulled Toothless around to the left, and she could easily spot what Snotlout had been talking about. A wall had completely collapsed in one section and Dragon Hunters were flooding in on rowboats from the giant ships anchored nearby. They’d hop out as soon as the boats reached land and onto the beach where some of Berk’s warriors were already rushing out to meet them. It wasn’t enough though.

“Toothless, go for the wall!” The Hunters were slightly bottlenecked over there and would be easier to take out. Then Astrid made sure she was holding on tight enough when she ordered: “Barrel roll! Multiple blasts!” She’d seen Hiccup do it countless times, and it was an effective offensive move.

There was a high pitched whistle before her world flipped over and she was nearly blinded by purple light. She was barely rightside up for a second before it happened again, and again. There were explosions and screams, and then finally Toothless righted. She lurched forward a little in the saddle. She’d done barrel rolls on Stormfly before, but never anything so smooth and quick. Once again, she found herself wondering how Hiccup seemed to ride this dragon with no effort.

She looked to find that Hunters, most likely dead, were sprawled out around the wall, but more were still coming in.

_Fire. Gotta get something to light a fire._

Astrid rushed away from the battle, feeling guilty for leaving her fellow warriors, but she would be back with something to help. She just had to get ahold of a barrel of Monstrous Nightmare gel. There were some being kept safe inside the stables.

She landed quickly, hopping off of Toothless and entering the stables at a run. Though, she stopped when she found Heather quickly attaching Windshear’s saddle.

“Heather, what in the name of Thor are you doing?!” She rushed over to her, grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her away from her dragon. It would have been much harder to do had Heather not been taken by surprise.

“Stoick said we need all the help we can get,” Heather answered. “Now let go of me, Astrid.”

“Heather, I’m not letting you go out there!” Astrid cried. She wanted to ask if she didn’t understand how dangerous this was for her, but she knew that she did, remembered how she’d yelled about not wanting the baby and not caring if going into battle induced a miscarriage. 

“Astrid, please, I have to.” Heather’s voice had suddenly softened. She laid one hand on the one Astrid had on her shoulder. “I’m not doing it for self-destructive reasons. I’m doing it because you guys need help and it’s not fair that you’re all fighting and I’m not. It’s not fair and I can help. Just please let me.”

Astrid let her hand slide from her shoulder, held Heather’s briefly. “Okay, Heather.” _I’m sorry. I just worry about you._ She didn’t say her thoughts out loud, knew that it would be wasting time that they didn’t have. “Then help me get a barrel of Monstrous Nightmare gel.”

“You got it.” Heather pecked her on the cheek. “Just gotta finish getting Windshear’s saddle on.”

Once finished with that, they rolled a barrel of the gel out from the stables, then mounted.

“I’ll carry it, you shoot,” Heather said. “Toothless has the most accurate blast.”

Astrid nodded, and then they took off, heading back for the beach. It wasn’t looking good down there. There were more people laying in the sand, either wounded or dead, and Astrid couldn’t tell if they were Berkian or Dragon Hunter.

“Drop it now, Heather!”

Heather had Windshear fling the barrel at the wall, where there were still more Hunters coming in. Right before it could hit them, Toothless fired, hitting the barrel. It burst in a purple-orange explosion, incinerating those directly underneath it and burning anyone too close. It closed up the gap in the stone in a wall of fire. Astrid watched as the Hunters who had been heading for it faltered, then turned and rushed back for the boats. Cheers came from the Berkians on the beach.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Heather darted for them, and white fire streamed from Windshear’s mouth, hitting the boats with a loud boom and setting them aflame.

There was still fighting on the beach to be taken care of though. Astrid had Toothless land. She couldn’t possibly risk hitting anyone on her side, and he needed time to recharge anyway. She dismounted, drew her axe, and rushed into battle with a shout.

 

While Astrid fought on the ground, Heather took care of the ship whose catapults had originally breached the wall. She took out their arsenal first, dodging arrows and ballista bolts as she did. Usually there would have been nets and chains flying at her as well, but the Hunters were shooting to kill, not capture.

Once that was done and the ship was sinking and engulfed in flame, Heather went to Astrid on the beach. The fighting was done there, and she was collecting the wounded into a group.

“Heather, help me get them to the clubhouse. How many can Windshear take at a time?”

“Two, plus me flying, but it won’t be fast enough, Astrid. I’ll go get Gothi.” She had Windshear turn, was about to take off, but Astrid stopped her.

“No, wait, I’ll get her. You stay here and protect them if any Dragon Hunters come back.”

Heather wanted to argue, to say that the Dragon Hunters were taken care of, but she just said: “Fine.” She knew Astrid was trying to keep her from danger, giving her the least dangerous job to protect her. Astrid took off and left her with the wounded, and she was unsure of what to do. Luckily, it was only a few minutes before she was back with Gothi. The old woman got off of Toothless’ back rather easily. Her gaze went to Heather before the group of warriors needing her assistance. She looked her up and down, then frowned in a disapproval, and Heather tried not to shrink back from her look. Of course Berk’s sage and healer wouldn’t approve of her fighting on a dragon while pregnant.

_I have to do what I have to do._

But now Heather _was_ worried about the baby, was worried that something would go wrong instead of almost hoping for it. Her conversation with Gobber had helped her realize that she did care, that she didn’t actually want to get rid of it. This was _her_ baby, _her_ responsibility. She slid down from Windshear’s back, one hand thoughtfully on her lower abdomen.

Of course, that was cause for Astrid to rush over. “Heather, is something wrong?” she asked urgently, taking her other hand.

“No,” Heather replied, shaking her head. She gave Astrid’s hand a reassuring squeeze. She hadn’t been able to tell from a distance in the dark, but now she could see she had blood on her. She didn’t seem hurt though, so it probably wasn’t even her own. “Just thinking.”

“About…?” she prompted.

“Nothing I can’t tell you later. You should get back out there,” Heather told her. “I’ll help Gothi in anyway I can.”

“Got it. Stay safe, Heather.” Then Astrid kissed her, quickly and on the mouth, evidently not caring if anyone saw. She squeezed her hand, then let go, jogged back over to Toothless and mounted. Then she took off, quickly disappearing into the night.

 

The Dragon Riders and the A Team reconvened at the stables sometime in the middle of the night. They couldn’t exactly tell what time it was though. It was hard with the sun down, and now they wouldn’t see it for another two weeks. They would have met in the clubhouse, but it was being used by Gothi for the wounded.

Heather sat on the floor, leaning against Windshear, exhausted beyond belief. She wanted to sleep, but she was keeping herself from it; her want to help was stronger. In the past few hours all of them had seen aerial combat, and most ground combat. She could tell who had fought on the ground based on the smears of blood and dirt on them. So far it looked like Snotlout, Bucket, and Mulch had avoided it, and she had too. She’d been staying away from the combat on the ground. She wasn’t huge yet, but it was obvious that she was pregnant, and enemies would go for her abdomen as her weak spot.

They were able to rest for the time being, as the Dragon Hunters had let up on their attacks, probably resting as well. The lights hadn’t gone out though, and Heather was sure they would attack again soon and would probably keep attacking until they’d won.

 _No, they’re not going to win. The Berserkers will be here in a few hours. And they’ll have Thorn with them. We can beat the Dragon Hunters and then find Hiccup._ She was sure he would spill to Stoick. He was intimidating, much more intimidating than she was. His size added a lot to that, given that he was almost seven feet tall. He was much bigger than Thorn. It would work. It would have to.

“Heather.” She looked up from the floorboards to see Stoick heading towards her. There was blood on him as well, but she doubted that any of it was his own. “You need to go get some rest.”

Heather abruptly stood. “But the Hunters will attack again soon.”

Stoick gently laid a hand on her shoulder. “We can make do with one less dragon and rider. It’s okay. You need to sleep.”

Part of Heather wanted to argue with him, but she knew he was right. She nodded. 

Stoick smiled a little, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “At least you’re a little more reasonable than Valka when she was carrying Hiccup. She didn’t want to stop moving. She never was good at that.” There was a deep sorrow in his eyes that put a pang in Heather’s chest. Stoick had lost his wife, and now his son. He had no family left.

“We’ll get him back, Stoick,” she said softly to the pain in his eyes. “We’ll get him back _soon_.”

Stoick opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it and just nodded. “You’re right. We will.” He clapped her on the shoulder. “Now go get some rest. We can take it from here.”

“Alright.” Heather stroked Windshear on the head before leaving the stables on shaky legs, planning on going to Astrid’s hut. Her exhaustion was almost overwhelming. She knew that she’d fall asleep as soon as she laid her head down. And then when she awoke the Berserkers would be there, and they would finally be able to win this.


	71. Chapter 70

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! So I successfully finished NaNoWriMo a day early, so I gave myself a few days break from writing. Chapters won't come out as frequently now since NaNoWriMo is over and I have finals and essays and such. As always, thank you very much for reading, and especially for making it this far! Comments are very much appreciated.

The Berserkers arrived the next morning, the first day the sun wouldn’t rise. Heather and Astrid flew out to them. Astrid looked dead tired, ready to fall off of Stormfly, and the blood on her had dried and hadn't been washed off. Heather had somehow slept right through the rest of the night, though apparently there had been an attack ongoing for a few hours. She still felt tired though, an awful fatigue weighing down on her like a weighted net. When this was all over, all she wanted to do was sleep. Well, find Hiccup and sleep, whichever came first.

The ships held back from the Dragon Hunters like they'd been ordered to, and Heather and Astrid landed on the main flagship. Hilda was above deck to meet them, wrapped in a fur cloak, the soldier next to her holding a lantern.

"Chief, it's good to see you," she said. "I hope we arrived on time."

"Just in the nick of it," Astrid responded, sliding down from Stormfly. She leaned against her dragon, most likely to remain standing. Heather dismounted and stood, able to without the help of Windshear. Besides, she wouldn't heave leaned on her anyway. She needed to look strong in front of her people.

"My lady, Astrid, are you okay?" Hilda asked in alarm, coming closer.

Astrid just waved a hand dismissively. "Don't worry. None of it is mine," she said, gesturing to the patches of blood on her. "Just really tired."

Hilda nodded, then looked to Heather. "So, what do you want us to do?"

Heather looked over her shoulder towards the force of Dragon Hunters. She could see flaming boulders flying from catapults from both sides and occasional bursts of fire from dragons. She'd thought long and hard about what the course of action would be once the Berserkers got here, but she still hadn't come up with a solid decision. It looked like the only thing that would work would be to approach them from behind and board the ships. There was no way a longship would be able to take down a galleon with just its catapults and ballistae, no way at all.

She looked back to Hilda, settling on her idea. "So we'll douse all the lights so that they don't see us coming, then capture a few ships by boarding them. After that, we use their own ships against them. I don't want all these ships abandoned though, because the Dragon Hunters do have longships out there."

"Take three of the galleons," Astrid put in. "That should be enough to take them by surprise. Heather and I will help you out with capturing the ships."

"Alright," Hilda said with a nod. "And what about Thorn?"

"Is he below deck?" Heather asked.

"Yes. Hasn't spoken a word in days. We fed him a little, just to make sure that he wouldn't die on us."

"I'll take care of him." Heather stepped past Hilda to go below deck. The guard at the hatchway silently went down with her, and she had a moment of panic, fearing that he didn't work for her, that he was going to try to kill her, but all he did was hold his lantern and stand behind her. He was truly guarding her like he was supposed to. She figured that, even if he wasn't, it would be stupid of someone to make an attempt on her life right now when there were so many people around.

Thorn rested against a crate, a blanket over him. He seemed to be sleeping. Heather roughly prodded him with her foot. He jerked up, looking around for a moment before letting his eyes land on her.

"Oh, it's you," he said disdainfully, voice a little hoarse from lack of use.

"Yeah, happy to see me?" Heather couldn't help responding. Thorn opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. "I know you aren't, but let's go. You're taking a flight on a dragon."

At her words the guard lumbered over, taking Thorn by the arm and hauling him to his feet, the action making the former councilman groan. The blanket fell off him, revealing un-bandaged wounds and clothes that were in bloody tatters. His hands were chained in front of him.

"What? Why can't I just stay on the boat till we get there?" he asked, a little breathless from the pain.

"Because the fleet is going into battle, and if this boat goes down I don't want you going down with it," Heather explained. She gestured for the guard to walk in front of her with Thorn, not trusting either of them behind her, and he did with no reluctance, shoving Thorn up and onto the deck. Heather followed, was met with Thorn’s glare as she went past him to Windshear. She’d decided that there was no way that she was letting that man get behind her. Windshear could carry him in her talons and he’d just have to deal with the discomfort of it. She wasn’t going to go out of her way to make him comfortable. He didn’t deserve it.

Stormfly crouched down so Astrid could mount her without much difficulty, and Astrid pulled herself up. Heather mounted Windshear. “Hilda, you can come with us,” she offered. “I take it you’re not one for fighting? I can bring you to the Edge and then come lead the battle.”

“Thank you, Lady Astrid.” She took the hand that Astrid was holding out to her. She climbed awkwardly onto Stormfly’s back, not seeming sure how to seat herself. “And it’s just Astrid, Hilda.”

“Sorry,” Hilda apologized. She shifted a little, but looked to be as comfortable as she would get.

Astrid looked to the soldiers on the ship. “No one make a move until I come back, alright?”

There were nods and murmurs of agreement. Thorn looked a little confused, clearly wondering why he hadn’t been put on a dragon yet. He didn’t say anything though.

“Windshear, grab,” Heather ordered, pointing at Thorn.

A look of panic passed over the man’s features. “What? No!” He made an undignified squeaking sound as Windshear took off, then wrapped her front talons around his arms and lifted him off of the ship. Stormfly took to the air behind her.

From her spot on Windshear, Heather could see Thorn thrash around a little. “Hey! You’re seriously going to carry me like this?!”

“Ugh, relax. It won’t even be for five minutes.” Heather was really not in the mood to be dealing with him. She was happy to be turning him over to Stoick. He’d be able to get answers from him. She knew it.

 

Viggo lowered the spyglass, a sneer curling his lip. He’d been trying to get a few hours of sleep between attacks, but had been woken much to early by one of his Hunters saying he saw lights in the distance. Now the lights weren’t that distant, though they were sitting just out of range of their catapults. Berk had called upon reinforcements.

Ryker, standing beside him, nudged him in the arm, and Viggo handed over the spyglass without a word, knowing what he wanted. Ryker lifted it, looked out at the lights.

“Are you sure those are reinforcements?” he asked. “I think I can see the Berserker crest.”

“Give me that!” Viggo snapped, snatching the spyglass back from Ryker and putting it to his eye. He looked in the same direction his brother had, and, faintly illuminated by lanterns and torches, he was able to see the flag of one of the ships. The black shape of the Skrill was unmistakable even in low light.

Viggo lowered the spyglass, confused. He hadn’t had any contact with Dagur recently. The man was no longer working directly for him, but they still held a tentative alliance. There was no way he could have known about this assault on Dragon’s Edge though… not unless Hiccup had said anything.

 _Oh, so he’s come to kill me._ Viggo almost laughed. It was a stupid move. Dagur probably thought he would have the advantage if Viggo had to face two different enemies on each side, but if he did actually succeed in his attack, then Berk would go right for him and not show him any mercy. They were fighting hard, but they’d fight Dagur even harder.

Then he realized that that didn’t make sense. Dagur was smarter than that. He raised the spyglass again. The lights weren’t getting any closer like he had expected them to. It wasn’t like Dagur to sit and wait.

“Odd,” he muttered to himself.

“What is?” Ryker asked.

“It’s not like Dagur to wait like that,” Viggo said. Something was off. Then, lights began to disappear from view, one after the other, and he was left staring at darkness. He lowered the spyglass, raised his eyebrows. “And _that_ is definitely not like Dagur.” He watched, but the lights didn’t come back on. “I don’t think it’s him.”

“Then who the Hel would it be? Dagur’s chief of the Berserkers, isn’t he?”

Viggo tapped his chin in thought, began pacing. “Well, what if he’s not the only Berserker chief at the moment?”

“What do you mean?”

“Heather,” Viggo said.

“But didn’t you have Dagur kill her?” Ryker questioned, clearly confused.

“I ordered him to, but that doesn’t mean he did it,” Viggo answered, still pacing. “Now that I think of it, it doesn’t seem likely that he would. He did, maybe still does, have some care for her. He could have just let her go.”

“But then she repays him by turning her back on him and most likely starting a civil war? Doesn’t make sense to me.”

Viggo stopped, had to keep himself from pinching at the bridge of his nose in frustration. “How is it that you spent months with both Berserker siblings and hardly understand how they work, yet I spent only five minutes in a room with them and I _do_ understand?”

“What?”

Viggo turned back to Ryker with an exaggerated sigh, clasped his hands in front of him. “It’s simple. Dagur cares for Heather, but Heather hates Dagur. Agh, I shouldn’t have ordered him to kill her. Should have made you do it. I overestimated his loyalty to me.” He began pacing again, feeling frustrated with both the situation and himself. He should have seen it sooner, should have been able to figure out that Dagur would never kill his sister.

“I didn’t think she hated him,” Ryker told him. “Most people don’t continually fuck someone they hate. That’s more something you would do.”

Viggo whipped back around towards him. “ _What?_ ”

Ryker just shrugged, leaned back against the gunwale. “Yeah, Dagur and Heather were fucking each other. Pretty sure most of the crew knew about it. They weren’t as discreet about it as they thought they were.”

_Well, that’s part of the reason Dagur didn’t want me talking to her alone._

Viggo didn’t know how to feel about this information. It disturbed him a little, but not deeply. He knew it was wrong to have a sexual relationship with a family member, but of course Dagur wouldn’t consider that. He didn’t think the man knew what right and wrong was. Viggo knew what it was, but often disregarded it. There was what he wanted, and there was right and wrong, and it didn’t matter what his wants aligned with. He doubted there was a such thing as right and wrong in Dagur’s mind though, doubted there was even a concept of it. Of course he’d go ahead and do that.

Heather clearly knew about right and wrong though, and cared where her actions fell on the spectrum of it. She probably hadn’t realized that what she was doing was wrong.

Viggo actually laughed a little, now finding himself slightly amused by this. “Interesting. Interesting, indeed. Why’d you never tell me of this, Ryker?”

“Didn’t think it was important.” Ryker shrugged again. “I figured that if Dagur was crazy, then Heather was probably crazy too, and I should just let them do what they wanted.”

“Ryker, if I had known that, then I wouldn’t have ordered Dagur to kill her.” Viggo began to feel slight anger towards his brother. “And she wouldn’t be alive now to be Berk’s ally and come to their aid!”

“Sorry?”

Viggo just shook his head. “Oh, you idiot.” He looked back towards the darkness, where the lights had been. Anxiety rooted in his stomach. He didn’t like not knowing where his enemy was. “Order some of the ships back around from the eastern side of Dragon’s Edge. We need them here.”

“You got it.” Ryker straightened from his position against the gunwale, then lumbered off and past Viggo, began shouting orders. Viggo just stared off into the dark. He didn’t like his tactic - _Hiccup’s_ tactic - being used against him. It made him feel uneasy. Before, he’d been absolutely sure that he’d be able to take Dragon’s Edge, but now that certainty was failing. All he was sure about was that he was angry, angry at Ryker for not giving him the information _months_ earlier, angry at Dagur for not killing Heather like he’d been ordered to, and angry at Heather for coming to Berk’s aid. Though, he could do nothing with his anger but let it fester.

 

“Really? This is him?” Stoick asked disbelievingly, pointing at Thorn as he was being tied to a chair by Heather. He’d expected the one that was withholding information on Dagur’s location to be bigger, stronger, younger. Thorn looked easy to crack, but he saw all the wounds on him, knew that wasn’t the case. It just didn’t fit with the image he’d had in his head.

“Yep.” Heather finished tightly tying the last knot, stood and moved to stand beside Stoick. “Doesn’t look like much, I know.”

“And you haven’t gotten anything from him? Not even a hint of where Dagur is?”

Heather crossed her arms. “Nope. Nothing.” She nodded her head towards the middle-aged woman standing nearby. “And Hilda said that he kept quiet the entire time here.”

“Well, that’s about to change, isn’t it?” Stoick pounded his right fist into his other hand. He was ready to find out where Hiccup was with his captor. He’d been ready for months.

 

Astrid flew back out to the Berserker fleet, clutching tightly to Stormfly’s saddle. She was tired, having barely slept in the last twenty four hours. She knew that this was close to over though, that she’d be able to rest soon. She just had to get through this day and it would be finished.

She had Stormfly hover near the flagship. She was close enough to be seen in the dark, and she could tell that the soldiers all had their eyes on her.

“Alright, we have to do this fast,” she said. “I saw Hunter ships moving from the east to this point on my way over here. We’re going to move forward and take the three closest ships. Sound your positions to each other so you don’t collide. Stormfly will shoot spines for you so you’ll have a way to climb the sides of the ship. Understood?”

There were sounds of agreement, and then Astrid heard her words being passed along back to the rest of the fleet. She felt confident for the first time in days. They could actually do this. They could actually win.

 

It had been half an hour. The reinforcement ships had arrived from the eastern side of the island, but there hadn’t been an attack yet. Everything was too peaceful for Viggo’s liking. It didn’t make sense. Feeling tired, he was beginning to wonder if he and Ryker had even seen the Berserker ships at all, if they had just been a trick of the mind and fatigue.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, his ship was hit with catapult fire. It rocked and swayed, and he struggled to stay on his feet.

“Where’d that come from?” he asked Ryker urgently, he now seemed as unsteady on his feet as he was.

As he asked it they were hit again, from the side it seemed.

_But that doesn’t make sense. That’s where my own forces are._

“It came from us!” Ryker reached for one of his swords, but intelligently decided not to draw it, not wanting to risk being hit again and dropping the weapon, or worse, falling on it. “I’m gonna kill whichever dumbasses are doing it!”

Viggo looked to his right, where the hits had come from. He grabbed Ryker by the arm and turned him around. “Actually, that might have to wait.”

One of his own ships was bearing down on them, and it was only a few seconds before the spiked metal bow rammed into them and tore into the hull. The ship lurched, sending Viggo, Ryker, and any men on deck, falling and sliding across to the other side. One man hit the gunwale and then went right over the side, falling into the dark, frigid water below. Viggo hoped to avoid such a fate. The coldness of the water would kill within minutes.

“Abandon ship!” Viggo shouted. It hadn’t tilted completely onto its side, so it would still be possible to get to the rowboats. He grabbed at Ryker and ordered: “Get us out of here!”

 

“Look, Thorn, you’re going to tell me where Dagur is, or I’m going to start hitting you,” Stoick said dangerously. He raised his right fist. “And my fist is about the size of your head, so I don’t think you want that.”

“Go ahead. Doesn’t bother me.”

“Won’t bother me either then.” Stoick punched him, felt the man’s nose snap against his hand. It was a satisfying sensation, and so was the sound of pain Thorn made. This man was helping keep Hiccup from him. He deserved all the pain he’d gotten and was going to get.

 

Snotlout and the rest of the Dragon Riders weren’t getting as much resistance as they’d grown used to when they attacked the Hunters. Most of them were now too busy fighting off the Berserkers that had taken their ships, and he could tell there was an awful lot of confusion. There were probably Hunters firing on their own rather than the Berserkers, unsure of which was which.

Two of the galleons were on their sides and sinking in the water, leaving men to die in the cold. Their hulls had been torn open by the metal bows of Hunter ships that had been taken by Berserkers. Ramming them was looking to be the most effective way to take them down.

With a victorious shout, Snotlout swooped down to roar fire down on the Hunters. They were actually going to win this.

 

Viggo watched from the deck of the longship as ruin was laid to his fleet. He didn’t want to pull back, but it was looking like he would have to. How could they fight an enemy when they were hiding among them, when they looked just like the rest of them? And how many men had they lost? How many were now just floating dead and frozen in the black water? He cared more about the numbers they represented than their individual lives, but let them think that he cared. If he ordered them to pull back now that’s what it would look like. They hadn’t taken a huge loss in numbers yet, but he had to hold up the facade that he cared, that their lives actually mattered to him. And so, he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, hoping at least a few of the longships around him would hear:

“Pull back! We’re retreating!”

“Viggo, are you serious?!” Ryker questioned incredulously. “We can still win this if we just fight back!”

“We might very well be fighting ourselves if we do that,” Viggo growled at him. “I’m not happy about this, but it has to be done.”

When he fell silent, he heard the order to pull back echoing through the fleet. The longship he was on turned, and began to move away from Dragon’s Edge.

 

A cheer went up among the Berkians as they watched the Dragon Hunters cease their fighting, and turn and leave. They’d won. They were retreating. The cheers grew even louder as the last ship faded from the light of the island, and the raised, bloodied fist of the Hunter crest vanished into the dark.

A strange silence followed. There was just the water lapping against the edges of the sinking ships, the fires that had been burning on them plunging out. There were no catapult blasts or explosions, no shouts and cries and clangs of metal. It was over.

 

Stoick was getting fed up with Thorn. So far he hadn’t said a single thing, and now he just glared at him through one eye, the other completely bloodied and swollen shut.

 _You know, I haven’t threatened to kill him yet._ Stoick found that that didn’t always work on people this stubborn, that they’d already resigned themselves to die and still wouldn’t give up the information, but he was running out of options… and patience. He drew his axe from his back.

“So, Thorn, ever thought about where you’d end up when you die?” he asked, hefting the axe in two hands. “I doubt it’s going to be Valhalla.”

“Why not?” Thorn spat. “Haven’t done anything terribly bad, now have I?”

“I’d say keeping the location of Dagur from me is terribly bad,” Stoick argued. “Because Dagur has my son. I bet you don’t even know what he’s doing to him, that you think Dagur’s always right and can do know wrong.”

“Whatever Dagur’s doing to Hiccup, he probably had it coming.”

Stoick tightened his hold on the shaft of his axe. He wanted to kill him right then and there for making that comment. He swung it at him, and Thorn gave a cry as it came for him, but he stopped it right before it could slice into his neck. Thorn had pushed himself back in the chair, was staring at the blade with pure terror, the first real look of fright Stoick had seen from him this whole time.

“I might ignore that comment and let you live if you tell me where he is.”

“Okay, okay!” Thorn ceded. “Greenland! Dagur’s in Greenland!”

“ _Where_ in Greenland?” The place was huge, and Stoick wasn’t going to waste time searching it if he could find out the real location now.

“Southeastern Greenland!” Thorn cried. “I’m sorry about what I said! Don’t kill me, please! He’s in southeastern Greenland!”

Stoick drew the axe back. Thorn relaxed, took a deep breath. It was his last as Stoick swung the axe and chopped his head clean off in a gush of blood. The head hit the floor with a thud, and his body twitched once before going completely limp.

“I thought you said you’d let him live…” Heather said quietly after a time in shocked silence.

“I said I might.” Stoick relaxed his stance, looked at the body in front of him, feeling satisfied with the kill. “No one tells me Hiccup had it coming for him and lives.” His adjusted his grip on the axe. “No one deserves what he’s going through, and especially not him.”

Then suddenly it hit him. They knew where he was. They actually knew where he was! They finally had an answer!

Stoick smiled for the first time since October. They knew where Hiccup was. They were going to rescue him.

 

Art by [minatoiskyuubismate!](http://minatoiskyuubismate.tumblr.com/post/167916992914)


	72. Chapter 71

Dagur had hoped that giving Hiccup his prosthetic back would make him talk to him, that he’d actually verbally thank him, but, as he waited for him to speak, he picked up the journal beside him and wrote. He showed it to him.

**Thank you.**

Dagur had to work hard to hold in a disappointed sigh. He missed Hiccup speaking to him. He’d even take his sass. He thought about taking his prosthetic back from him and telling him that he wouldn’t receive it unless he spoke. He decided not to though. He didn’t know why. Maybe it was because of the genuine gratitude in Hiccup’s eyes.

 _I’ll just wait longer,_ Dagur decided. _He has to talk at some point._

Hiccup put the journal down, made to stand. His movements were shaky and he nearly fell, but Dagur took him by the arms and helped him up. Once standing Hiccup smiled, actually smiled at him. Dagur was taken aback by the expression. The one time Hiccup had ever smiled at him had been when he was drugged. Was he drunk, maybe? He looked around the tent, but didn’t see any evidence that he’d been drinking. It could have been cleared away though.

“Hiccup, you’re not… drunk, are you?”

Hiccup shook his head, and he was _still_ smiling! Dagur decided he should just go with it. If his Hiccup was happy, then that was a good thing.

Hiccup surprised him again. He came forward and kissed him. It was soft and sweet, speaking of his gratefulness. For an instant Dagur was too stunned to kiss back. Hiccup had never initiated a kiss before, not that he could remember anyway. He’d started kissing him back, but that was it. He’d never made a move to do it all on his own.

A little bit of hope fluttered in Dagur’s chest when he kissed Hiccup back. Was he actually starting to love him? Though, he couldn’t help feeling that it wasn’t true, that there was something wrong with Hiccup and that’s what was making him do this. Or maybe he was just trying to trick him again, trick him to let his guard down so he could get free.

Dagur pulled away, took Hiccup’s face in his hands and searched his eyes. Usually he could tell what Hiccup was thinking and feeling, but his emotions looked locked away from him, distant.

“Hiccup, are you okay?”

There was a flicker of something in Hiccup’s eyes, and he thought it looked like hatred, but then it vanished. It was so sudden it made Dagur question if he’d even seen it at all. Hiccup didn’t nod or shake his head or make any sort of reply. He just kissed him again, and Dagur wasn’t about to argue against that. He lowered his hands from his face and grabbed at his hips, pulled him into him. Hiccup made a noise against his mouth, and Dagur hurriedly let go of his hips.

“Sorry, Hiccup. Forgot about that.” He’d asked him not to touch his hips and had told him it hurt when he did, but he’d briefly forgotten about it. He placed his hands higher, on his waist instead. “Is that better?”

Hiccup nodded. He brought his arms up and wrapped them around the back of Dagur’s neck, and it made Dagur curious about his right hand. He let go of Hiccup with one hand, took his wrist.

“How are these fingers doing?” he asked, looking at them. They were still bandaged, but it had been a while since his escape attempt when he had hurt them again.

Hiccup flexed his fingers, winced a little, but kept doing it. Though, after a moment or two he grimaced and let his fingers fall still.

“Think the bandages can come off?” Dagur asked.

Hiccup frowned a little, shook his head.

“Maybe in a few days?”

Hiccup looked back to him and shrugged. He seemed reluctant to do so, to not give him a definite answer.

“It’s okay, Hiccup,” Dagur told him. He let go of his wrist, tapped him on the shoulder. “Now take this off. And be sexy about it.”

Hiccup raised his eyebrows at him in question, probably wondering how he could do that. He must not have realized how his movements had started to change, how most things he did for Dagur had a steady gracefulness that hadn’t been there before. It was a lovely change, and he wanted to see more of it.

“You can do it,” Dagur encouraged. “Go on. Make me happy. In fact…” He pulled back from him, grabbed a chair and pulled it over to sit. “Give me a little show.”

 

Hiccup was a little stunned by Dagur’s words. Usually he was straight to the point and Hiccup would be on his knees by now and sucking his cock, not standing there pondering how to give him a “little show.”

He knew he couldn’t hesitate any longer though, so he undid the sash to his robe and let it fall to the ground, allowing the garment to slide open. He bared one shoulder to him and a portion of his chest. Dagur sighed a little.

“Beautiful. Slowly, just like that. Now run one hand over yourself. Play with your nipple.”

Hiccup’s face heated a little in embarrassment, but he knew he couldn’t deny Dagur without consequences, so he did as he was told, running one hand over the front of his body before tweaking his own nipple. He was growing erect fast, and there was no hiding that from Dagur.

“That’s it, babe,” he praised. “Moan for me.”

Hiccup did, but only after he closed his eyes. He knew he couldn’t do it while looking at Dagur. For once, Dagur didn’t reprimand him for breaking eye contact.

He bared himself to Dagur slowly, and eventually the robe was sliding off and to the ground. He didn’t do anything, waiting for Dagur to give him another order.

“Run your hands over those lovely thighs of yours.”

Hiccup still had his eyes closed as he did it, and he heard Dagur undoing his belt. It was made clear that he was touching himself when a soft groan left him. He didn’t like the way the runes of Dagur’s name felt under his hand, didn’t like the reminder that they were there in his skin.

“Mm, you look beautiful, baby. You want me touching you?”

Hiccup nearly shook his head. Part of him did want Dagur to touch him, but another part was screaming at him that this was wrong, that he didn’t want this. Still, he nodded. He wasn’t allowed to deny Dagur. He was supposed to want him.

 _And I do want him,_ Hiccup tried convincing himself. _I do._

“Show me where.”

Hiccup wanted to scream at him. He already knew where. Why did he have to do this and drag this out? Though, instead of screaming, he stroked his hand over his cock, sighing at the gratification his own touch gave.

Dagur laughed a little. “You whore.” There was a joking tone in his voice, but the word stung anyway, probably because that’s exactly what he was and exactly what he didn’t want to be. “Now come here. Get in my lap.”

Hiccup did as he was told, again, opening his eyes to meet Dagur’s gaze. All he could ever do was what Dagur told him to. Though, he kissed Dagur before he could kiss him first or tell him to, knowing that was what he wanted. Dagur groaned, released his own cock to take ahold of Hiccup’s. Hiccup moaned, let himself accept that his touch felt good, that he wanted it. He wanted Dagur. He did, he _did_. He accepted Dagur’s hands on him, accepted his tongue into his mouth. He wanted to cry, but he wasn’t sure why at the moment. He buried the tears for later. He was sick of crying. He’d done too much of it, and Dagur would probably just get angry if he cried. He didn’t want to make Dagur angry. He wanted to keep him happy. Dagur had told him to make him happy, so that’s what he would do.

 

Hiccup didn’t move after Dagur left. He just laid on his side with the blankets pulled over him, though he’d neglected to put his robe back on. There was no point. It would just come off again anyway.

He watched the entrance of the tent, waiting. He felt like he was always waiting for something. Waiting for rescue, at first, and the chance to escape, (but he was no longer waiting for any of that), waiting for Dagur to return, to pleasure him or hurt him, whichever he saw fit, waiting for Bryn to make his day better and push his pain to the back of his mind… Except only one of those would happen. Only one was realistic to wait for. Still, he found himself waiting for Bryn anyway, waiting for her to walk into the tent and ask him how he was doing and put a smile on his face. A real smile that he actually felt. He’d smiled earlier for Dagur, hadn’t even had to force himself to, but he hadn’t felt it.

He thought as he waited, and his thoughts never led to good places. First he thought of Dagur, of how he hated him. Then he thought of himself, and there was hatred in it as well. Then he thought of his friends, his dad. Why hadn’t they come for him? Certainly he couldn’t be that easy to forget. It had only been… Hiccup didn’t know how long. He’d lost track of the days. How long had he been here? How long had he been with Dagur? It hadn’t passed his birthday yet, had it? He didn’t think so. He recalled Snoggletog not being so long ago.

Snoggletog… That was the day Bryn had died… The day he’d killed her… It was his fault that he was laying here waiting for nothing, his fault that he’d never see her again, never talk with her again. How long had she been dead? The pain from it suddenly felt fresh, like it’d been yesterday that her neck had been snapped and her body dropped in front of him. Maybe it had been.

Or maybe it had been a week ago, a month ago, long enough for his friends and family to forget him, to not care.

That suddenly scared him, not knowing what day it was, not knowing how long it had been. It scared him, and so he screamed, screamed again, kept screaming.

Naturally, it wasn’t long before a guard was rushing in. He heard a sword being drawn, the man probably thinking he was being attacked. Then he felt the man cautiously approach him.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? What is it?”

Hiccup didn’t know how to answer. He couldn’t. Words crawled up his throat, but stayed stuck there. He should move for his journal, grab it and tell him what he wanted. He didn’t do that either. He sobbed.

“What is it?” the man asked again, sounding surprisingly patient.

Words, his voice. They swelled in his chest, pounded away at the inside of his throat. He opened his mouth, and they came free on his tongue:

“Dagur. I want Dagur.”

 

Dagur abruptly straightened in his chair when one of his soldiers ran in. He didn’t reprimand him for not announcing himself first. Clearly something was wrong.

“What is it?” The first thing he thought of was attackers, that Berk had somehow found him.

“Sir, it’s um, your… He started screaming.”

Dagur quickly stood. “Well did you check if he was being attacked before running here?!” He wanted to know if his guard had abandoned Hiccup while he was in trouble.

“I checked and everything looks fine, but he won’t stop. He asked for you.”

“Wait, like, actually asked for me? He _spoke?_ ”

“Yeah…” The guard looked confused. He would be. Dagur was the only one who knew of Hiccup’s going mute.

Dagur didn’t care to explain it to him. He rushed past him and went outside. Hiccup had spoken, and he wanted him. He took off jogging back to his personal tent, but then broke into a run when he remembered that the guard had said he’d been screaming.

Though, when he approached his tent he didn’t hear screaming, so he must have stopped. Upon entering he heard crying, saw Hiccup laying on the cot with his back turned to him. His robe was still on the ground from earlier.

“Hiccup! Hiccup, I’m here.” He rushed over and sat, placed a hand on his back. “What is it? What is it?”

Hiccup didn’t answer, and Dagur’s hopes came tumbling down. Then anger rushed in. He’d speak to a guard, but not to him? How could he-

“Wh-what day is it?”

Dagur was too stunned to say anything for a moment. This was what Hiccup had been screaming about, what he had wanted him for?

“January first,” Dagur eventually answered. He wanted to rub his hand over Hiccup’s back, but there were blankets between them. “Why?”

“I want to…” Hiccup sounded a little awkward handling his voice after not having used it for a while. It was hoarse too. He sobbed a little, sniffled. “I want to know how long I’ve… b-been with you.” His crying resumed.

“Since October. Just before my birthday, remember?”

“Th-three months?”

“Not quite yet, but almost.”

Hiccup sat up, turned to look at Dagur, the blankets sliding off of him. His eyes were big and mournful. “H-how long does it- does it take to for-forget someone?”

“Um, I don’t… I don’t know.” He rubbed his hand carefully over his back, over the scabs there, hoping it would comfort him. “Guess it depends on how important the person is.”

At that Hiccup’s eyes just welled with more tears, and he gave a strangled-sounding cry before falling forward into him. Dagur wrapped his arms around him, waiting for him to speak, to tell him what was upsetting him so badly.

“I’m not-not important!” he wailed. “Th-they forgot about me, didn’t they? They forgot! D-don’t care!”

“I’m sorry, Hiccup. I wasn’t going to tell you but…”

“But what?” Hiccup looked up at him, eyes demanding an answer.

“So you know how I’ve been intercepting Berk’s mail?” Dagur asked to start off his lie. And it was a lie that he was going to tell, if only to bring Hiccup closer to him.

Hiccup just nodded, lips trembling, looking at him with rapt attention.

“They haven’t sent anything about searching for you for weeks now. One letter said that they should just give up, that you weren’t worth it.”

“F-from who?”

“Stoick.”

“M-my dad?” There was such pain in Hiccup’s voice that Dagur almost regretted what he had said.

Almost. He nodded.

Hiccup wailed, collapsed against him, burying his face against his chest. He was crying harder than he had been before. “I’m not worth it! I’m not w-worth it!” He kept repeating those words, almost screaming them. Then: “D-don’t care! No one cares!”

And now Dagur would get exactly what he wanted.

“Hiccup, I care,” he told him softly. This had to work, now that he’d taken everything away from him and left nothing but himself. He rocked him gently, double checked that he wasn’t holding him too tight. “I care.”

“N-no one…” His argument faltered, turned to a sob.

“Not no one. I care. You matter to me.” He kissed him on the head. “You matter to me, alright?”

“B-but… I thought that… thought that they cared. Thought that they l-liked me. Thought I was w-worth something.”

“They don’t, Hiccup, so to Niflheim with them. If you don’t matter to them, why should they matter to you?”

“I-I don’t matter. Not important.”

“Not to them, but to me you’re everything.” Dagur rested his chin on the top of his head. “I love you, Hiccup. You’re important to me. You matter to me. I care about you. You’ve always mattered to me. I’ve never forgotten you. I didn’t see you for three years but I still remembered you. And the people that called themselves your friends deemed you forgettable in less than three months? Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.”

“Y-you care.”

It wasn’t a question, but Dagur answered anyway, just to drive his point home, to firmly drill it into Hiccup’s mind.

“I do.”

“Th-they don’t, but you do.”

“Exactly. I love you.”

“L-love me?”

“I do. I love you.”

Hiccup took a deep, shuddering breath against him, then another. Dagur hoped that meant his crying would stop, but it just returned in full force. He let him cry though. He figured he had to come to terms with this, and that crying was the only way he knew how to do it.

After many minutes he began to calm, and Dagur just held him in his arms, waiting for when he’d speak again.

“Dagur.”

“Mm-hm?”

“I don’t… I don’t love you. You know that, right?”

“Yeah.” It hurt Dagur to admit it, but there was no denying that. He couldn’t pretend Hiccup loved him when he so obviously didn’t. He’d seen the hate in Hiccup’s eyes, knew that it was meant for him.

“But I…” Hiccup took a breath, finally lifted his head to look at him. “But you’re all I have. I don’t know… I don’t know what I feel. Maybe I can… come to love you?” It came out tentative and unsure, as a question.

“Don’t worry, Hiccup. You don’t have to. Just as long as you know that you matter to me. Me and me alone.” Despite his words, Dagur hoped that someday Hiccup would love him, that his feelings would eventually be returned.

Hiccup nodded. “I matter to you.”

“Yes. To me. No one else.”

“To you.”

In answer, Dagur leaned his head down and kissed him gently. Hiccup’s mouth tasted like tears. He kissed back.

 

Art by [minatoiskyuubismate](http://minatoiskyuubismate.tumblr.com/post/167916992914)!


	73. Chapter 72

Astrid didn’t want to sleep now that they knew where Hiccup was. She just wanted to go out and get him right now, never mind that she was exhausted beyond belief, never mind that they didn’t know what Dagur’s numbers looked like, never mind that they needed a plan. She just wanted Hiccup. She couldn’t bare leaving him there with Dagur for another second now that they knew where he was.

So, of course, she was not happy with Heather dragging her to her hut, telling her she needed to sleep.

“Heather, come on, sleep can wait.” She tried pulling her arm free, but Heather wasn’t letting go. “We know where Hiccup is! We have to go get him!”

“Astrid, the flight there is probably going to take close to three days. You _need_ to sleep first.”

“It taking that long is more reason for us to leave now!” Astrid argued. “Come on, let go of me!”

“Astrid, I’m not even holding onto you that hard,” Heather told her, stopping and turning to face her, but not letting go of her hand. “If you weren’t so tired you would have broken free by now.”

Astrid looked down at her hand in Heather’s, frowned, attempted again to pull it away, but she just couldn’t make it happen.

“Heather, please.” She said it quieter, softer. “I can’t bear to leave him there another minute.”

“And neither can I, Astrid, but if you go right now you won’t be of any use when you actually get there. There’ll be fighting, and we need you.”

Astrid looked at Heather, at the care in her eyes, and nodded. She was right. Without any sleep she’d be useless when they actually got to him. So, she didn’t argue anymore, and let Heather lead the way to her hut.

It felt good to lay down, though her bed wasn’t as comfortable to her as it used to be. She’d grown used to the mattresses on Berzerk, so laying on wood was strange to her. At some point when there was time, she’d have to bring it up with Berk’s craftsmen. Heather laying beside her made her much more comfortable though, and Astrid rolled over so that they were facing each other, wrapping her arms around her. Heather’s abdomen pressed up against her own, and it led her to wondering how Heather was feeling about the baby. There was also a smaller thought of when it would start kicking. She realized she was too tired to talk though, to even make coherent words.

Heather wrapped her arms around her as well, kissed her on the lips, and she smiled a little. “Go to sleep, Astrid,” she said softly.

Astrid decided that there was no point in arguing against that, and let herself drift off.

 

Hiccup was woken as he usually was, with lips on him and Dagur’s voice in his ear. He didn’t want to wake up though, was still tired.

“Mm, Dagur, let me sleep.”

“You can sleep after. I just want to wake you and make sure you eat something.”

“Not hungry,” Hiccup told him tiredly.

Dagur trailed his fingers over his ribs. “But you have to eat. You’re too thin. I don’t want to see these anymore.”

Hiccup forced his eyes open, looked down at himself. Dagur was right of course. His ribs were visible. He looked smaller under Dagur’s hands than he usually did. He worked himself around to face him.

“I’ll eat,” he told him. “But, um…” He blushed. There was something else he wanted to take care of first, something that was burning with a terrible desire that couldn’t be ignored.

Dagur laughed. “You want sex first, don’t you?”

Hiccup nodded, and, feeling shameful for it, he drew his eyes away from him.

“Hiccup, it’s alright.” Dagur stroked one hand over his face. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting it.”

“I shouldn’t want it from you.” He said it quietly, fearing what Dagur would do to him. He knew there was something wrong about this, wrong about all of it, but there was nothing he could do about it.

“Baby, I’m all you have. Who else would you be wanting it from?”

 _Astrid._ The thought was fleeting though, disappearing in a moment. Astrid didn’t care about him. He’d never see her again.

“I don’t know.” Dagur was right. He _was_ all he had. Maybe it was okay to want him like this. It would certainly make things easier if he wanted it, if he wanted Dagur. Dagur wanted him, so reciprocating would be easier than fighting it. He was tired of fighting with himself over these things.

Dagur ran his hand into his hair, pulled on it to lift his head towards him, and then his lips touched his. Hiccup couldn’t find it in himself to be disgusted, but he couldn’t find it in himself to kiss back either.

Dagur pulled away. “Come on, Hiccup, what’s the matter?” He rolled him onto his back and he let him. There was something almost comforting about having Dagur on top of him. It was familiar, what he’d grown used to. He found himself wondering what position he’d take him in, what exactly he’d do to him, if he’d hurt him or not.

“I don’t know,” he said again.

“Ah, I’m sure you’ll figure it out if it’s important.” Dagur tugged on his hair again, making his scalp sting, and tilted his head back. He lowered his head, his mouth touching his neck where it wasn’t covered by the collar. Hiccup closed his eyes with a sigh. The things Dagur did with his mouth always felt good. He’d run it parted over his skin, tease him with his tongue, suck and nip at him. Hiccup curved into it with a small moan, grasped at his huge arms. He rolled his hips, rubbing his erection against Dagur’s. He felt a little fear at the feeling of it, at how clearly Dagur wanted him. In response, Dagur growled, began thrusting against him.

“Is that how you want it, Hiccup?”

Hiccup no longer knew what he wanted, but he couldn’t just say “I don’t know” again. Surely that would make Dagur angry. Instead he gasped out a “yes.” It wasn’t like he could say no. Saying no was bad, would result in punishment.

Dagur worked harder at him for it, and the pleasure increased, became violent. Hiccup gave a cry, arching into his movements. This was good. He didn’t know why he would want to tell him no, why he used to. There was nothing bad about this… was there?

Dagur cursed and chanted Hiccup’s name against his neck, all the words from his mouth meaningless. Hiccup used to hate it, but now he didn’t mind. He didn’t want to block his ears like he had used to. This was okay. He’d let Dagur do what he wanted, and that included spewing nonsense while he rutted himself against him.

Though, Dagur began to slow, and Hiccup bucked into him, wanting more, wondering what was wrong.

“Hiccup, I can’t,” he panted. “I need to be inside you. I need it so bad.”

Hiccup was fine with that too, just as long as his sexual desires were satisfied. Dagur let go of his hair, and so he was free to nod. He didn’t know why he did. It wasn’t a question. Dagur had never asked and never would. He didn’t need to ask anyway, because he just went and did whatever he wanted no matter what the answer was. “No”, “stop”, and “don’t” were all words that had no meaning.

Dagur lifted himself off of him and stood. Hiccup wondered what he was doing until he came back over with the sash from his robe and a length of rope. Apparently he was being tied up. His heartbeat quickened at this. He wouldn’t be able to fight him. He’d be trapped. He- Why was he worrying about these things? He wasn’t supposed to fight him anyway. He didn’t want to fight him.

“Roll over and put your hands behind your back,” Dagur ordered. Hiccup was going to do it, but hesitated. He didn’t _want_ to be tied up.

“Come on, baby. Just do it.”

“I don’t want-”

“ _Excuse_ me?” Dagur interrupted harshly, an angry fire lighting in his eyes. Hiccup clamped his mouth shut. He shouldn’t have said anything, but he just didn’t want it like this. Maybe he didn’t even want it at all. “Do it or I’ll get my whip out.” He looked upwards, clearly drifting off into his own head. “Mm, I did like the crack it made. And _ooh_ the way you screamed when it hit you. Maybe I should do it anyway.”

Hiccup found himself quickly rolling onto his stomach, his hips hurting with the motion. He couldn’t tell if Dagur was being honest or not about whipping him whether or not he listened, but he hoped his chances of it happening were lowered by obeying. He was trembling a little as he put his hands behind his back.

“There’s my good Hiccup,” Dagur praised while straddling him. “I know just how to get you to do what I want, don’t I?” He began wrapping the sash around his wrists, much too tightly.

“You’re not actually going t-to whip me anyway, right?” Hiccup asked, fearful of what Dagur’s answer would be.

“Nah, not right now.” Dagur tied a knot, tightening the sash even more, and Hiccup winced. The answer hadn’t done much to reassure him. It meant that Dagur still would at some point. He figured it made sense though. He liked hurting him. He finished tying the knots, then grabbed at the back of his collar and slid the rope underneath it. “Just keep your mouth shut if you don’t want something. You’re not allowed to tell me no, got it?”

“Yes.”

Dagur finished tying the rope to his collar. “And do you know why that is, Hiccup?”

“B-because I belong to you.” His brand almost seemed to burn at the words.

“Exactly.” Dagur moved off of him, gave the rope an uncomfortable tug. “There we go. You look fucking excellent like this. Now get on your knees and come here.”

It was a struggle, but Hiccup eventually managed to get on his knees, face Dagur, and shuffle his way over. It was humiliating to struggle like this, and his cheeks burned. Dagur was sitting with his legs spread, resting on one elbow, eyes piercing his body. He no doubt liked the humiliation he was causing him.

He grunted. “You’re not as hard as you were before,” he noticed. “Do you not want me anymore?” He pouted in a mocking way at him.

“No, I do,” Hiccup answered in a rush. “I just-”

“Good. Then suck my dick.” Dagur pulled on the rope, forcing him downwards, and Hiccup was quieted as his mouth went around Dagur’s cock. “Do a good job at it and I’ll be nice and gentle when I open you up.”

Hiccup couldn’t see anything bad about that, so he tried his best at this, even forcing himself to take him down his throat. The action made Dagur moan, so he must have been doing a good job. The sound urged him on, added an artificial hunger to his movements. He had to show Dagur that he wanted this, even if he really didn’t. He didn’t know what he wanted anymore, and really, why did it matter?

Once that was done, Dagur made him suck on his fingers, and he did that just as ravenously too. And when he told him to moan he did, following orders just like he was supposed to. He was becoming harder again, growing excited at what was to come. He figured that he didn’t necessarily want it, but he needed it.

Then Dagur ordered him to turn around and lower his head, so he was left with his ass sticking up in the air. He spread his legs for Dagur, panting with arousal.

“Look at that. Didn’t even have to tell you to do it.” He kept a tight hold on the rope, brushed his wet fingers over his hole, and Hiccup quivered a little. Dagur kept up that movement, not venturing inside him, and it wasn’t long before Hiccup couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t want to beg to him though. Begging for him to stop and begging for him to actually do it were two very different things, and he was only used to begging for him to stop. Hiccup wiggled his ass a little, trying to tell him what he wanted.

“Use your words, Hiccup.”

Then Hiccup decided that he didn’t have any pride left, any dignity. It had all been taken from him by this man that just wanted him to beg, and he was supposed to do what he wanted, so he’d beg.

“Please, Dagur.”

“Please what? Gotta be more specific.”

Hiccup hated him. “Y-your fingers. I want them. Please.”

Dagur breached him with the tip of one finger, and Hiccup whimpered.

“Please, Dagur. P-please. All the way in.”

“Call me brother and I’ll do it.”

Hiccup didn’t know what to do. Dagur had never wanted him to call him brother before. The very thought disgusted him… but he needed to be satisfied so badly. Dagur knew how badly he wanted sexual gratification, how his body needed it, so he knew he’d do almost anything to get it. He’d turned him into this.

“Brother, please.” The words felt wrong coming out of his mouth, and for a moment it felt like it wasn’t even his voice he’d said it with, that it must have been someone else who said it. But then it was made clear that it was him when Dagur slid his finger all the way in and rubbed it against his prostate. Hiccup moaned at the wonderful feeling, his eyes closing in bliss. Yes, this was what he needed, and Dagur was the only person who could give it to him.

Dagur chuckled. “You’re such a slut. My perfect little slut.”

Hiccup wanted to tell Dagur not to call him that, but then quickly remembered that what he wanted didn’t matter, so he instead moaned like the slut he was. He must have been one given that was what Dagur called him.

“Say you’re mine and I’ll add a second finger. I know how bad you want it.”

“I’m yours, Dagur.” Hiccup did it without hesitation. That wasn’t a lie. He was Dagur’s, and he’d be his forever. His brand seemed to burn again, a little more intensely than it had before.

“Good boy.” The way Dagur said it was almost like he was praising a treasured pet, not his human - so-called lover - but Hiccup soon didn’t care about that as he added a second finger like he’d promised.

“Oh gods.” Hiccup’s legs shook a little.

“You like that, baby?”

“Yes, chief.” He knew Dagur would like being called that, would appreciate him saying it without being commanded to.

“Mm, say that again.”

“ _Chief_.” Hiccup ended up moaning it as Dagur massaged his prostate. He curved into it with a small whine. More. He needed more. He knew Dagur had promised to be gentle with this part, but he didn’t want gentle anymore. He wanted it hard and quick, so as to get to the part that really mattered.

“Oh yeah, that’s it.” Dagur began working his fingers in and out of him, ever so slowly. _Too_ slowly, and much too gently. Hiccup wasn’t used to gentle from Dagur. It didn’t seem to fit. Almost everything he did was rough. The countless bruises and bite marks on his body were proof of that.

Though, eventually, once Hiccup was trembling and whining and leaking precum, Dagur removed his fingers. Hiccup heaved out a breath of relief, and there may have been a “thank you” that accompanied it, but he wasn’t entirely sure. He didn’t have full control of himself anymore, so it could have happened.

Dagur’s name left his lips when he felt the head of his cock pressing at his hole. He didn’t know why he said it, if it was a plea for him to stop or a plea for him to keep going. He didn’t know anything anymore save for the raging lust inside of him.

Dagur sank into him, breathing out his name, and Hiccup gave a cry at finally being fulfilled like this. Then the thrusting began and he didn’t think he’d ever been more satisfied. It was rough and hard and just a bit painful, everything he was used to from Dagur, everything he needed from him. He was gripping his waist much too tightly with one hand, the other still on the rope that was attached to his collar, and he’d tug on that occasionally, almost as an unneeded reminder of who was in control here.

Though, after a time, Hiccup found himself pulling at his restraints, squirming to try to get out, to try to get away from Dagur. He wasn’t entirely sure why. He needed this, so why was he trying to escape it? The word “stop” repeated over and over in his head, but he wasn’t allowed to let it leave his lips. He wanted to cry, maybe for no reason at all, but he held back the tears. Dagur would only get mad at him for crying during this, would hurt him, maybe even whip him for it. He’d said he would at some point. Hopefully Dagur interpreted his movement as him trying to heighten the pleasure. It was certainly doing that. Dagur made some comment about him being a writhing mess underneath him, but he didn’t really hear each word individually, wasn’t paying enough attention to. He kept talking, most likely just rambling and cursing like he did during sex, but his voice became a nonsensical buzz. It didn’t matter. Hiccup figured that nothing really did. He just moaned and cried out, moving to get away, moving to help satisfy his body’s voracious need.

The pleasure built upon itself, like waves cresting over each other before the first was fully finished. He thought he sobbed, but couldn’t be sure; there were no tears to accompany it. Then his climax was upon him, looming over him like some massive, dark creature that planned on swallowing him whole. He held it back. There was usually something bad after this if he remembered correctly, usually pain. The creature’s teeth were sharp. He didn’t want it. The heat in him became unpleasant, making his stomach twist. Ice was sprinkled into his veins and a shiver raised the hair along his spine.

But then the creature was on him, devouring him in one fell swoop. Hiccup screamed. He screamed at the pleasure that stabbed right through him and into his thoughts, his mind robbed of everything but the sense of fear. Dagur pounded him a few more times, made his fear of pain a reality, but then he was finishing too. When he was done Hiccup fell silent, flopping down onto his stomach and gasping for breath. He was shaking, the clouds of pleasure leaving his mind, but the fear remaining for some reason. What was he so afraid of? His feelings were beginning to frustrate him. They made no sense.

Then Dagur stroked a hand over his back, and there was a slackness on the rope, probably meaning he’d let go of it. He began to untie his wrists. It was over. At least for that morning. Dagur would want him again that day, probably two or even three more times. Hiccup guessed he was okay with that.

“Okay, Hiccup, you’ve got to be lying if you tell me you’re not hungry now.”

“I-I’m hungry now.” He said it, and found that he actually was. Hunger had become an unfamiliar feeling to him, but he was sure that that’s what that gnawing feeling in his stomach was.

“Good. ’Cause after screams like that you deserve all the food you want. I was gonna give it to you anyway, but you know what I mean.”

Hiccup laughed a little. He didn’t know why. Maybe it was due to the fact he didn’t want food and only needed it. Maybe it was because he didn’t really want anything.

 

Dagur had made him eat everything in front of him before leaving, and once he was alone Hiccup did something he hadn’t done in a long while.

He looked at his reflection.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done it, the last time he’d actually gotten a good look at himself.

He picked up the mirror, met his reflection’s gaze. There was something unfamiliar there, like he wasn’t really looking at himself. He didn’t have anything to compare it to though. He couldn’t remember what his eyes used to look like. Maybe they hadn’t changed at all and he just wasn’t used to seeing them. But no, thinking that his eyes hadn’t changed seemed unrealistic. He knew they had, but he didn’t know in what way. He couldn’t muster the energy to let that unnerve him. What _did_ unnerve him however were the black and blue bruises around his neck that stretched out from underneath his collar. It seemed strange that it had only been a few days since he’d tried killing himself. It seemed like it had been longer than that. He didn’t know how many days it had been since then, only that it had been fairly recent. There were strange emotions whirling inside him at the sight of them, and he reached a hand up, trailed his fingers along the bruises. Then he touched the collar, tugged at it a little. He wondered if Dagur would ever take it off of him. Though, he’d only talked about replacing it, about giving him one with jewels on it like he was some kind of beloved animal. He didn’t know how he felt about that. He was there for Dagur to do what he wanted with, so he guessed he would have to be okay with it. He’d gotten used to having the collar on anyway. Only about a month and he’d forgotten what it felt like without it.

Hiccup put the mirror down. He hadn’t even really looked at himself in general in a while, so he opened his robe. He was used to seeing his brand, resting right over his heart, like Dagur thought he had claimed that too. He poked at one of his ribs. _I really am too thin, aren’t I?_ Luckily that would probably start changing, with Dagur making sure he ate even though he didn’t always want to. Maybe he’d even begin to get his appetite back. Then he looked down at his right thigh. It was all healed, so Dagur’s name was in him in the form of pink, raised scars. He touched them, traced over the runes, unsure of what he felt about them.

Hiccup discarded the robe to continue on this rediscovery of himself. That’s what it felt like, like he hadn’t truly been accepting his body for what it was and what it had become and was only just now doing so.

He bent one of his arms around and felt at his back. The skin there felt strange, not smooth like it had used to be, rough and raised with scarring that dashed across back. Scars briefly trailed off before running into other scars. Some were crossed over each other. There were so many it was almost overwhelming.

Hiccup lowered his arm, brought his attention to his hips. They were bruised with black and blue and purple, and he could see the outline of Dagur’s fingers, the shape of them darker than the rest of the bruising. He pressed on his right hip, winced at the pain it caused. He was starting to become rather concerned about this, thinking that Dagur had done some sort of lasting damage that went beyond just bruising. His hips hurt when he walked, when he moved in almost any way. They were hurting now, just standing there looking at himself. He wondered if it was possible to be injured just by someone consistently holding on too hard, if it could begin to cause a problem over time. It seemed likely, given how he was hurting now. And the new spot that Dagur had been holding onto to avoid his hips, his waist, was bruised as well. Not anywhere near as badly as his hips, just blotches of green and blue, but it was still there. The shape of his hands was still there.

There were smaller bruises on him as well, spattered over his abdomen and thighs, made by Dagur’s teeth and mouth. In some places it was evident that it was teeth that had caused them. His left shoulder was one of those places. It was still healing from when Dagur had broken skin.

Hiccup realized that Dagur was on him in almost every way, that he’d marked his body so clearly as his that there was no way to negate it. His crest was burned into him, his name carved into his leg, his hands and teeth memorialized as bruises on his skin. There was just so much of it. His body had been changed so much in his time with Dagur. It’d been taken from him and turned into something he didn’t recognize, and he hated him for it, but there was nothing he could do with that hate. He was sure that, in a lifetime with Dagur, he’d receive many more scars. He hoped that his life with Dagur wouldn’t be too long, that he’d get sick and die, or that Dagur himself might even kill him, probably by accident. He wouldn’t try to kill himself again, but he couldn’t find anything wrong with wanting a shortened life when he knew it would be spent with him.

Hiccup picked up his robe and put it back on, began wondering what that life would be like. Surely once they were on Berzerk and in the castle Dagur would give him real clothes. An advisor needed real clothes. What did they even feel like?

He laid down, winced at the pain it caused his hips, and pulled the blankets over himself, planning on going back to sleep. He kept thinking as he laid there with his eyes closed. Surely Dagur would have to marry a woman at some point, have children to keep his line going. He was twenty two now. He couldn’t wait forever.

Hiccup wondered what that would be like, where he himself would fall in that dynamic. He knew there was no possible way that Dagur would just cast him aside and ignore him once he was married, and there was no law stating that he had to. What would his wife be like? Would she hate Dagur just as much as he did? Would she hate him as well? What would Hiccup’s relationship with her be like?

Thinking of the future and just how strange it could be, Hiccup drifted off, knowing that when he woke Dagur would be there.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art done by me.


	74. Chapter 73

Hiccup lay on top of Dagur with his head resting against his chest, his heart beating in his ear. He listened to the pace begin to slow, felt his breathing even out from the gasping and panting it had been when he was taking him. One of Dagur’s hands trailed over his back, the other thrown out beside him. Hiccup had his arms wrapped around him, hadn’t moved them from the spot he’d put them in when Dagur had entered him, though he’d relaxed his fingers so that his nails weren’t digging and clawing into him anymore. He could sense that there was blood on his fingers.

“Sorry,” he said.

“About what?” He could feel Dagur give him a questioning look.

“About your back,” Hiccup clarified. “You’re bleeding.”

Dagur traced over the path of one scar. “Don’t worry about it, Hiccup. I kinda like it.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.” Dagur returned to caressing his entire back, hand rubbing over his scars. “I like knowing how crazy I can make you.”

Hiccup frowned a little. He didn’t know why. They fell silent, and it was a comfortable silence.

“Hey, Dagur?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you take the chain off my ankle?”

“Um…”

“I won’t go anywhere. I promise.” Hiccup lifted his head, met Dagur’s eyes. He pulled his arms out from underneath him and rested his hands on his chest. “Where would I go anyway?” _Save for going outside to lay in the snow and die._ Hiccup couldn’t say he hadn’t thought about that. Not very seriously though. There wasn’t much conviction in the idea. It was just a thought that crossed his mind. It didn’t seem like a bad way to die, to just lay in the snow and wait till the cold made him go numb, and then he would close his eyes and never open them again.

“I don’t know. I just…” Dagur looked away from him, took a deep breath. “I don’t trust you, Hiccup.”

“I promise I won’t go anywhere.” He was desperate to get the chain off of him. Not so that he could escape, but because there was no need for it. He wouldn’t try to escape without it. It was completely unnecessary. 

“You could just be lying to me. You know, like you did before. And then you got out. You tried… leaving me.” Dagur’s voice was pained, and Hiccup saw him blink tears away. It made him feel guilty.

“Dagur, I’m sorry. I won’t do that again.” Hiccup shifted up his body. He wished his head was turned towards him so he could kiss him, but only to get the chain off. He wasn’t planning on kissing him because he loved him or even liked him. He didn’t.

“Hiccup, stop pushing it, okay?” Dagur turned his head back towards him. “The chain isn’t coming off right now. I just feel better with you having it.”

 _Even though I tried killing myself with it?_ Hiccup didn’t bring up this point though. Dagur had told him to leave it alone, so now he had to. He wasn’t going to question his flawed logic. Then again, he knew he wasn’t going to try that again. There was no point in killing himself. There was no point in staying alive either, but… It just didn’t make sense to try to do it. He’d hurt Dagur again if he tried, and he didn’t want to.

“Okay.”

“Good.” Dagur kissed him, wrapped his other arm around him. He pulled away, stroked his hands gently over his hips, and Hiccup winced. “How are these doing?”

“Th-they still hurt.”

“Really?” Dagur took ahold of them and Hiccup gasped at the pain of it. “How bad?”

“D-Dagur, stop it.” He wanted to squirm, to try to get out of his grip, but he knew that would only make it worse. “It’s pretty bad.”

Dagur gave a discontented _hmph_. “Fine.” He moved his hands up to his waist. “That better?”

“Much better.”

“What do you say?”

“Thank you?” Hiccup still couldn’t really believe that he had to thank Dagur for not hurting him.

“No, it’s not a question.”

Hiccup’s cheeks burned. “Thank you.”

“Good boy. Gotta show gratitude where it’s due.” Dagur kissed him again, harder, and, knowing what he wanted, Hiccup opened his mouth, accepted his tongue. His body liked that, liked the way Dagur’s hands squeezed his waist. He grunted as lust came back into him, rolled his hips a little despite the pain to rub himself against Dagur’s stomach. Shame came to battle against the lust, but it ultimately lost. Dagur had told him there was nothing wrong with this, with _him_ , that it was okay to feel like this.

Dagur pulled away, looked at him in surprise. “Hiccup, you’re not… done?”

Hiccup tried to stop himself rutting against him, but he couldn’t. “Dagur, I-I need it. I need you to…” He licked his lips, couldn’t believe he’d come to the point of saying this. “I need you to fuck me.”

Dagur rolled, putting Hiccup on his back underneath him. Then Dagur laughed. Kept laughing. It climbed into a shriek before dying down again. He rested his head against him, laughing quietly in a way that almost sounded like sobbing.

“What’s so funny?” Hiccup didn’t want him to take the time to laugh. His body against him was too much. He _wanted_ it, wanted _him_ , but here he was wasting time laughing instead of giving him what he wanted. “Dagur, come on.”

“Just - Oh gods!” He laughed again. “The one time you say it with conviction and I’m - ha! - I’m too tired to do it!”

Hiccup’s face fell in disappointment. He arched into him, wrapped his arms around him. “Come on, Dagur, please.”

“No, Hiccup.” All laughter was gone from him. “I won’t fuck you now. I can’t.”

Hiccup felt anger rise up. So Dagur was allowed to say no, but he wasn’t? That wasn’t fair. Wasn’t fair at all. He wanted to do something about it, but he couldn’t. He was too small, too weak, was trapped underneath Dagur and helpless. He didn’t even know what it was he would do if he had the chance. Probably something he would have despised before this and probably still would now. He was letting his body’s urges control him.

_Come on, Hiccup, just clear your head. Let it go._

“But, I will take care of you. What kind of lover would I be if I just left you like this?”

Hiccup found himself sighing with relief at this. He didn’t have to clear his head, didn’t have to push away his body’s urges. He tilted his head back when Dagur lowered his head, let him kiss at his neck. He smiled.

 

The Dragon Riders were about a day out from Greenland. They had decided not to take the A Team with them. They were sure Dagur had large numbers, but they just couldn’t do it. The A Team didn’t know what was happening to Hiccup. Only they knew, along with Stoick and Gobber, and they weren’t with them either. Stoick had wanted to come, but there were too many things he had to do in the wake of Viggo’s siege, cleaning up he had to oversee, funeral rights he had to take care of… Toothless wasn’t with them either. They’d wanted to take him, but it was such a long flight, and no one was as good at flying him as Hiccup was, and no one ever would be. 

Currently they’d landed at a small island they’d found to rest. They didn’t know what time it was, if it was truly night or day, but they’d been flying for hours and were tired. They sat around a campfire, making plans.

“We shouldn’t attack right away,” Heather said. She was glad to be there, wanted to be part of the rescue, though no one had seemed happy about her coming along. They were worried about the baby, and really, she was too, but she knew she had to be a part of this.

“Why not?” Snotlout asked. He was sitting and leaning against Tuffnut. “I say we go in dragons blazing and kill the bastard.” He didn’t have to specify who he was talking about. They all knew it was Dagur.

“We’re probably outnumbered,” Astrid said. She sat with a hand rubbing Heather’s lower back. She was grateful for it; she was sore there.

“And Dagur would probably talk to me,” Heather told them. “I can make it look like a negotiation.” She knew that there would be no negotiating with Dagur. The only thing they’d be able to figure out through talking was who was really in charge of the Berserkers. He’d probably want them to rule together, but he wouldn’t give up Hiccup. There was no way to get him to do that. “I’ll get close to him and then kill him.”

“Ooh, Heather, playing the assassin,” Ruffnut commented. “I like it.”

“But what do we do?” Fishlegs asked.

“Maybe we can sneak in?” Astrid suggested. “Get Hiccup while Dagur’s talking to Heather?”

“But what about the rest of the Berserkers?” Tuffnut questioned. “Once you kill Dagur won’t you be in charge of them?”

“I doubt it’s going to work that easily,” Heather said. “I don’t know how loyal to him they are. They very well might try to kill me. We have to be sneaky about this. Get in, kill Dagur, get Hiccup, and get out before anyone can know about it. We can worry about the aftermath of it later.”

“At least it’ll be easier since it’s dark.” Snotlout didn’t sound entirely convinced though, nervous. Heather felt that way too, was sure she and Snotlout weren’t the only ones who did.

“Yeah,” she agreed. She couldn’t believe that they were actually so close to doing this, that soon they’d have Hiccup back with them and Dagur would be dead. She didn’t feel like any of them would be able to sleep well that night… if it even was night. In twenty four hours, they’d have Hiccup with them. He’d be free.

 

For some reason, Hiccup trembled a little when Dagur pressed himself against his back. Maybe it was due to the fact that the last time he’d had him tied up like this, standing with his arms over his head, he’d drugged him and hurt him and had pushed him far past any of his limits. Dagur had wanted to fuck him like this, and he couldn’t deny him, so he’d let him tie his wrists to one of the beams, but now he was regretting letting him. He was going to drug him again, was going to hurt him, tear him up-

“Hiccup, it’s okay.” He trailed one hand over his side, the other caressing over the runes in his thigh. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. Just take a deep breath.”

Hiccup did, trying to will himself to relax. He wanted this, didn’t he? He was erect like he did.

And then Dagur _told_ him that he wanted it, and he knew he was right. Even if he wasn’t, he had to listen to him. He had no choice. He’d never have any choice.

Hiccup sobbed when Dagur entered him, and Dagur didn’t stop. 

 

Heather looked at the land below them in dismay. She didn’t need a spyglass to see just how large Dagur’s camp was. There were lights everywhere, from lanterns, torches, and campfires. She hadn’t even thought that there were this many Berserkers. 

_There must be a lot of mercenaries_ , she figured. It made sense for Dagur to have mercenaries.

The pit that she’d woken with in her stomach grew. How was she supposed to get in there? Wouldn’t they just shoot at her and knock her out of the sky? They wouldn’t realize it was her. All they would see was a dragon.

_But I have to do this._

Astrid flew up close beside her. “I’ll focus on leading everyone in quietly. You just focus on Dagur, alright?”

“Yeah, but, how do I get in there? How do any of us get in there?”

“We’ll land over there.” Astrid pointed to a part of the land that wasn’t lit up, away from the camp. “You go in first. Have the guards take you to Dagur. We’ll follow. We won’t know our way around, so that’s the best way to do it.”

“Okay.” Heather looked at the camp for a little while more before turning Windshear and flying towards the spot Astrid had designated to land. She dismounted and paced around a little to try to get the soreness out of her limbs, snow crunching underfoot. Hopefully in the camp it would just be mud so that the Riders could follow without making noise.

“You got this, Heather,” Fishlegs told her. He squeezed her shoulder briefly before moving out of the way to let her other friends give her similar words of encouragement and affectionate touches. Astrid did so last, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

“Tell Dagur what he’s dying for if you get a chance,” she told her quietly. “I want him to know.”

Heather only nodded, her nerves now being replaced with determination. She then kissed Astrid softly on the lips, not caring if anyone saw. Something about the touch made her feel stronger, and she turned and marched off towards the camp.

After a time she heard the Dragon Riders begin to follow. She prayed that they would be quieter in the camp, that there wouldn’t be snow for their steps to crunch on. 

She frightened two guards when she came out of the dark, and they were quick to draw their weapons on her. It took all of her willpower not to do the same. She just made herself stand straight, trying not to look scared.

“Who are you?” one of the men demanded. He looked warily out into the dark before bringing his gaze back to her. “Where’d you come from?”

“I’m Heather, Dagur’s sister.” Her voice came out strong and clear. “I’m here to speak with him.”

The two men looked between each other, as if unsure of what to do. Heather waited anxiously. Surely Dagur hadn’t given any orders to kill her, had he? Maybe he hadn’t given any orders at all and that was why they looked so confused.

Finally, one of them spoke, relaxing his stance. “We’ll take you to his command tent.”

Heather walked forward, and one guard walked in front to lead the way, the other behind. They clearly didn’t trust her.

After a time, she had to try hard not to glance over her shoulder. There was no snow in the camp, gone after being trod on so often, so she couldn’t here if Astrid and the others were following or not. That was good, but it still added to her nerves. They passed by a lot of other people - soldiers, women and men in plain clothes doing chores - but she never heard anything that showed that they’d been sighted. Everything seemed to be going smoothly so far.

Finally, she and the guards reached a large tent, which was being guarded by two more men who stood outside.

“Who’s that?” one of them asked.

“Heather,” the guard in front of her answered before she could. “She’s here to speak with Dagur.”

“And to talk things out about who’s actually ruling, I suppose?” the same man asked.

“Yes,” Heather answered. “I’d like to avoid bloodshed, especially since Dagur’s my brother. If this can be worked out peacefully, I’d like it that way.”

“Smart woman.” He looked her up and down. “I’ll have to ask you to hand over your weapons of course.”

Heather took her axe from her back with no argument. She didn’t want to start any trouble. This was going smoothly and she wanted to keep it that way. She didn’t hand over the knife she had sheathed inside her sleeve though. No one could see that one, and she needed it. 

The man took the axe from her. “You can wait inside for him.” He nodded towards the guard that had led her there. “You can go get him. Hopefully he’s not, um, too busy at the moment.”

“What would he be busy with outside of his command tent?” Heather asked, though she was sure she already knew the answer. Her stomach twisted.

“His, uh, consort,” one man answered. “You may have to wait a while if that’s the case. Just go in and sit down.”

Hiding her sudden burst of anger, Heather simply nodded, then went inside the tent.

 

Astrid and the Dragon Riders quickly scurried around the side of the command tent where they would be out of sight. She was glad that they’d gotten this far. Following behind Heather had been difficult with all the people they’d passed, and they’d had to duck behind tents, but they hadn’t been spotted.

“Now what do we do?” Ruffnut whispered.

“We wait.” She peeked around the side of the tent, saw Heather still speaking with the guards. She then took her axe off her back and handed it to one of them. “Once Dagur shows up we go get Hiccup. We’ll see what direction he came from and go that way.”

They fell silent, and Astrid heard one of the guards say something about Dagur being busy with his consort, and she gritted her teeth, clenched her hands into fists. She longed to draw her axe from where it was strapped to her back. Hiccup. That was Hiccup they were talking about. It hurt to think about what he was probably enduring right now, that they hadn’t gotten there soon enough to stop it from happening just this one last time.

_I’m sorry, Hiccup. I’m sorry. Just hang in there. We’re here now. We’re coming to get you._

 

Dagur didn’t want to stop, but he had to when he heard one of his guards calling him from outside his tent. Why was he being interrupted? Surely they could hear what he was doing, knew that he was busy.

“Dagur, please.” Hiccup’s voice was a whine, and he wiggled back against him.

“Sh, Hiccup.” Dagur reached up a hand and put it over his mouth. Then he let his anger into his voice, shouted: “What the Hel is it?!” He didn’t want to be interrupted during this. He was still inside Hiccup, didn’t plan on leaving him until he was finished. He resumed rocking into him, slowly, his movements minimal. Hiccup whimpered into his hand. “It better be really fucking important!”

“Sir, it’s your sister. She’s waiting in your command tent for you,” the guard called back.

Dagur stopped his movements for a moment, stunned. Heather? Heather was _here?_

Hiccup gave a muffled whine, clenched his muscles around him. 

“Oh fuck,” Dagur gasped, bowing his head against his shoulder. “Hiccup, baby, hold on. Um… Just, uh, just tell her I’ll be a few minutes!”

“Aye, sir.”

Dagur didn’t wait to get back to fucking Hiccup, and he removed his hand from his mouth as well. He then used that hand to spank him, and Hiccup yelped.

“Why’d you do that when I was talking to someone?” he demanded. 

“I needed you to… I wanted…” Hiccup’s words trailed off into moans. Dagur knew what he’d been trying to say, didn’t need him to finish. He’d needed him.

Dagur tried to stave off his thoughts about Heather, to just focus on what he was doing and how good it felt, but it was difficult. He hadn’t seen her in months, and she’d claimed the Berserker throne. They were at war, though there hadn’t been any battles yet, and she was here to talk to him. Then he remembered that she was pregnant, began wondering how far along she was and what she looked like.

“What do you think she’s doing here?” he panted out.

“Heather? I don’t… I don’t know. I thought- thought you said that they’d stopped - _agh-ha..._ \- looking for me.”

_Shit._

“And they did. She’s not here for you. She’s here for me. No one cares about you but me. Remember?” 

“Y-yes.”

Dagur hoped that was the case, that Heather wasn’t here to talk to him about Hiccup, that she was instead here to talk about who should rule. Besides, even if she was here for Hiccup, Dagur wouldn’t let her have him. There was no way.

“You only have me.”

“I-I only have you,” Hiccup repeated obediently.

“Good boy. Now, you gonna cum soon? I really do need to go talk to her.”

“ _Yes_ , Dagur.”

“ _Good._ ” Dagur took Hiccup’s cock into his hand, pumped it fiercely. Hiccup shuddered against him, and it felt like it was from fear. “What’s the matter?” he growled.

“Scared you’re gonna h-hurt me.”

“Oh, I am, Hiccup. I am. And I want you to scream really loud, baby.” He nipped at his ear. “The loudest you can.”

“D-Don’t. Please don’t. P-Please don’t hurt me.”

“Hiccup…” He growled in warning.

“ _Stop_.”

“Remember you’re not allowed to say that?” He felt Hiccup’s body tense. He moved back against him, clearly trying to get away from his hand. When he moved his other hand over his abdomen he could feel his muscles there tightening. He was holding it back. “Hiccup, come on.”

“ _No._ D-Don’t hurt me. _Please._ ” He was breathing hard, desperately. 

“But I want to hurt you. And I get to do whatever I want with you, and you do whatever I say, so _cum._ ” 

“ _No-o-o…_ ”

“Do it!”

Hiccup finally let go, and Dagur was pulled over the edge with him. Hiccup screamed and it was such a beautiful sound. He worked him with his hand to hurt him, to make sure he kept screaming, and he did. He wanted him to. He liked knowing that he was in pain, and it was even better since he caused it. He looked up to watch him pull at his restraints.

“Louder, Hiccup! Come on!”

Hiccup obeyed, and Dagur was hoping Heather could hear. He didn’t know why but he wanted her to. If she was here for Hiccup he wanted her to hear him scream, to hear what he was doing to him, to hear that he was _his_ , his and nobody else’s.

Finally, he let go of Hiccup and withdrew from him, gasping. Hiccup hung his head down, quiet sobs leaving him. Dagur circled around to his front, took him hard under the jaw and lifted his face towards him. He looked at him without having to be told, tears in his eyes.

“Wh-why do you do that?”

“Because I like to. Simple as that.” Dagur stroked his thumb over his chin, kissed him. Hiccup’s mouth moved against his, returning it. He wanted to just stay there and keep kissing him, but he couldn’t keep Heather waiting any longer. He let go of Hiccup, then went to clean up and get dressed. 

After a few moments Hiccup asked: “Aren’t you going to untie me?”

Dagur looked at him as he pulled on his pants. He looked good tied up standing like that, naked, every inch of him vulnerable to him. He decided he wanted to keep him like that. For later.

“Nah. I’m gonna keep you like that.”

_But I don’t know what’s going to happen with Heather._

_Maybe we can make up and both fuck Hiccup after._ Dagur really liked that idea. Heather was the only person he’d ever share Hiccup with. He didn’t trust anyone else enough, didn’t care for them enough. 

Once dressed, he went back to Hiccup, kissed him briefly.

“I’ll be back, okay, babe?”

Hiccup nodded. There was an emotion in his eyes that Dagur couldn’t discern, something that looked a little like despair. 

“Hiccup, it’s okay.” He stroked a hand over his face. “I’ll try not to be gone for too long.” He kissed him one last time, and then left.

 

Astrid flinched as a distant scream suddenly split the air. It sounded familiar. It sounded like-

“Hiccup,” Ruffnut breathed, her voice pained. 

Astrid wanted so badly to just jump out from hiding and start slashing with her axe. She wanted to follow the sound and find Dagur that way, kill him herself for doing this to Hiccup, for making him scream like that. 

She hadn’t realized she’d actually stepped forward until she felt a hand on her arm.

“Astrid, stop,” Snotlout whispered. His hand tightened on her arm. “We can’t do anything right now.”

“I… I know… But he’s hurting.”

“We’ll get him soon. We just have to wait a little longer.”

Astrid felt tears stinging at her eyes. She stepped back, wiped at her face. “Okay.”

Eventually, Hiccup stopped screaming, and Astrid felt like she could breathe easier when he did. It hurt to hear him making the sound, to be so close and not be able to help him and make the pain stop. There was a grotesquely curious part of her that was wondering what Dagur had done to make him scream like that.

 _Soon he’ll be dead_ , she consoled herself. _Dagur will be dead._

In a few minutes Dagur was striding towards the tent. It took everything Astrid had to not just throw her axe at him. Once he was in the tent, she turned to the other Dragon Riders, motioned for them to go. She was going to stay behind with Heather and make sure that everything went alright. 

They branched off, hurriedly moving in the direction Dagur had come from, but not too outwardly. They couldn’t be caught. 

Astrid drew her axe from her back, took a deep breath, and waited.

 

Heather unclenched her hands once Hiccup stopped screaming, tried to make herself relax. She couldn’t though, and found herself pacing the length of Dagur’s command tent. 

_Why did he do that?_ Certainly Dagur had been told that she was there, so he must have had some twisted motive for making Hiccup scream like that. He’d probably wanted her to hear for some reason. Her chest ached. If she had heard it then the Dragon Riders definitely had too. She was a little surprised she didn’t hear the sounds of fighting outside. They were fiercely loyal to Hiccup, and hearing something like that could work to make them blow their cover. 

As time passed, Heather figured that she should sit, to make Dagur think she was more relaxed than she really was when he came in. She looked towards his desk and the large chair behind it. There were two smaller chairs in front of it. She decided that the smaller chairs didn’t suit her, that she wanted to make a statement. It wouldn’t be a long lasting one given that Dagur would be dead soon, but it would be worth it. She went and sat in the large chair, his chair. She let her arms rest on the armrests. There. Let Dagur be surprised by that.

She questioned her decision as time passed, shifted a little. What if he would just be angry with her? His anger was something to be avoided. She wanted this to go smoothly, to look peaceful till she slid the knife between his ribs. She almost stood, but was stopped when Dagur entered the tent. She tightened her jaw, and for long moments they just looked at each other. She could tell that much of Dagur’s attention was on her abdomen. 

He didn’t look any different. She didn’t know why she’d expected him to. It was Hiccup that would no doubt look different, not him. Dagur was the tormentor. There was no reason for him to look different.

Finally, Dagur spoke:

“You’re in my chair.”

“I am.” Heather didn’t know what else to say. Her heart was racing. Was that fear she was feeling? She shouldn’t have been afraid of him. Dagur wouldn’t hurt her. Anytime he had had been by accident rather than purposeful.

Then Dagur laughed, the sound that verged on mania breaking the tension. He came over to her, and soon Heather found herself pulled to her feet and in his arms. It was warm, familiar, and there was almost something comforting about it. It made her remember why she’d gone to him, why she’d tried to be close to him. Then she remembered why she was here, remembered how she’d heard Hiccup screaming mere minutes ago, remembered the bulge in her abdomen, and her hatred flared up, consumed whatever comforting emotion she’d been feeling towards him. She wanted to stab him right then and there, but she wasn’t in a good position to. He’d hugged her tightly, trapped her arms against her sides. For a moment she felt a rush of panic, but then Dagur let go of her. He looked down at her abdomen, smiling, but also looking a little confounded.

“And by the gods, you really are pregnant, aren’t you?” He pulled his fingers through his hair, and an expression that could have been guilt crossed over his features. She knew better than to fall for it though. Dagur could be good at pretending he felt real emotions, felt things like guilt and remorse. “And I shouldn’t know that, but, um…”

“You’ve been spying on me. I know.” Heather tried to keep her voice even, tried keeping the anger out of it.

“Yeah, about that… I mean, we’re kind of at war, so…”

“I get it,” she said curtly. “That’s what I came here to talk to you about.”

“Kind of figured that. But can’t we catch up first?” Dagur took her by the arms. “We haven’t seen each other in months. You have to tell me what’s been going on.” He smiled at her. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Dagur.” She couldn’t meet him in the eyes when she said it, probably because part of it was true. She had missed him. He was the only family she had, and she was about to kill him. He was atrocious and despicable, a monster of a person, but he was still her brother. An ache formed in her chest, built into her throat. She didn’t know what she was feeling. She hated him. She hated him so much, but he was her family.

She was broken from her thoughts by the feeling of Dagur’s hands on her abdomen, careful and curious. She wanted to draw away from it, but didn’t. Better to be closer to him when she did it. 

“Now who got you pregnant?” Dagur asked, looking down at where his hands touched her. It unnerved her to think of what those hands had done, how many times they had probably had Hiccup’s blood on them. “My spies said you didn’t announce who the father was, but certainly you can tell me. Who replaced me in your bed? Do I know him?” Dagur sounded only slightly jealous, not as much as she’d been expecting from him.

“No one you know,” she said. “His name’s not important.”

“Aw, come on. I’m curious.” Dagur looked up, met her gaze, and there was something endearing there. It made her hate him even more. It was similar to the look he’d given her before they’d kissed for the first time, a look that was so utterly human despite the monster he was. 

And, thinking of that moment, Heather leaned forward. She put her arms around him, tilted her head, and he did the same. She unsheathed her knife when their lips touched, ready to stab him.

At least she’d thought she’d been ready, but her hand hovered over his back. She’d been so sure of herself, of her want to kill him, but now that she was with him again she felt an ounce of care. She hated herself for it, was disgusted with herself for how she was kissing him, how she’d kissed him before, how she’d lain with him and helped make this baby inside of her. She suddenly hated herself more than she hated him. 

Then Dagur pulled away, spoke with his mouth close to hers. “How about we talk about all the heavy, boring stuff later and go back to my tent? I’ve got Hiccup tied up nice in there. We can have a family reunion.”

Heather’s hatred for Dagur again outweighed the hatred for herself. She glared, gritted her teeth in anger, drew her arm back.

Dagur very suddenly grabbed her wrist and twisted, the knife falling from her fingers as her bone came to the verge of breaking. She gave a startled cry. She should have tried to keep her face even. The expression had given her away.

Dagur looked down at the knife in shock, then back at her, his mouth open a little.

“Heather, were you-? You were about to kill me!” There was hurt on his face, in his voice. Then anger overrode his features, a sneer curling his lip. He pushed her, throwing her back against the table. Luckily he let go of her wrist when he did it, and so she was able to roll away when he threw a punch at her. The full power of Dagur’s fist was not something she wanted to feel. She tried going for the knife, but then Dagur was on her, tackling her to the ground. She luckily landed on her back, but her luck didn’t last. Dagur’s hands went around her throat.

“How could you, Heather?! How could you?!” Dagur shrieked.

Heather wanted to answer, to scream at him all the wrongs he’d done, to tell him why, but she was stuck trying to get his fingers off of her. Fear for the baby burst inside of her. Certainly she could live longer without air than the baby could. She had to get Dagur _off_ of her.

Heather shoved her knee upwards, and a pained yelp left Dagur as it connected with his genitals. He fell off of her, and Heather desperately pulled in a breath. She wanted to get to her feet, to get away, but she was just trying to breathe. 

Then Dagur was on her again, breathing hard. The knife was in his hand, and he raised it.

“Dagur, wait!” She held up her hands in a futile attempt to stave him off. “It’s yours! The baby’s yours!”

“ _What?_ ” He lowered the knife.

“It’s yours! It’s your baby!” Heather cried. Dagur looked down at her abdomen, and the knife slipped from his fingers. Heather reached for it while his concentration was directed at her, at the baby, _their_ baby. She got the knife under her fingers, took ahold of it.

“Heather, I-”

Heather stabbed him and his words were interrupted with a choked gasp. She pulled the knife out and his blood gushed over her. He was just looking down at the wound in shock, his mouth moving a little as if he was trying to speak. She’d gotten him just underneath his chest, in the right side of his abdomen. She doubted that that blow would kill him. It had been clumsy: she’d stabbed him with her left hand and she was right handed.

She scrambled out from underneath him, kicking his legs out from under him. Dagur fell onto his back with a pained grunt, pressed a hand to the wound. She got close, was about to stab him again and finish it.

“ _Guards!_ ” Dagur shrieked. 

Then the two men from outside were rushing in, weapons raised. Heather got into a fighting stance, but she didn’t stand a chance. She-

An axe swiped clean through the neck of the man to Heather’s right. His head tumbled off and his body quickly followed, blood spurting out. With his body on the ground Heather could see Astrid. She’d been the one to kill him.

“Heather, come on!” Astrid rushed forward and grabbed her hand, was pulling her out of the tent before the other guard could act.

“Where’s my axe?” she asked in a hurry, stumbling away from the tent. She turned towards the entrance, ready for the other guard to come out and attack her. He didn’t.

“Here. They’d left it outside.” Astrid handed it to her and she sheathed her knife before extending the weapon to its full form. She realized why the guard hadn’t left the tent to come after them. There was no need to. There were soldiers surrounding them, all with their weapons drawn. Heather didn’t know whether or not they would kill her, but they would most definitely kill Astrid.

“I have to call for Stormfly. We have to get out of here.” Astrid put her back to Heather’s. “The others better have gotten Hiccup.”


	75. Chapter 74

Dagur’s mind was reeling. Half an hour ago he’d been having a perfectly normal day, a reasonably good day, and now here he was laying in his command tent, bleeding from a wound his sister had given him. She’d tried killing him.

And her baby… Her baby was _his_ baby. It was _their_ baby. He was going to be a _father_. If he lived through this at least. He made to lift his bloodied hand to take a look at the wound, but the guard that was still alive hurriedly knelt by him and pressed his hands to his to keep it there, and Dagur gave a pained cry at the added pressure.

“Chief, just keep your hand there. Can’t have you bleeding out.”

“I-I’m fine,” Dagur got out, voice tight. “G-go after them.” His teeth were trying to chatter, like he was going into shock or something. He didn’t know why. He’d been stabbed before. Granted, that had never been anywhere near his vital organs, just in the leg. He tried to take a deep breath, and it hurt, but he didn’t feel like he was choking. She hadn’t gotten his lung. 

“Don’t worry about it. The other soldiers can handle it.”

“But…” He stubbornly tried to move, to get off his back, and agony flared through him, nearly taking him from consciousness. He laid back down, beginning to shake. “H-Hiccup. Th-they’re g-going after Hiccup.” 

That must be what was going on. It had been Astrid who’d killed his other guard. If she was here then the other Dragon Riders were too. Panic burst in him, there somehow being room for it among the hurt and betrayal and confusion he was feeling. He wanted to scream, so he did. He screamed a name.

“ _Hiccup!_ ”

That, along with the pain and the shaking, stole the rest of the energy Dagur had, and he fainted.

 

“Okay, you two stand guard,” Snotlout ordered to Fishlegs and Ruffnut. “Tuff and I will go in and get Hiccup. Shout if there’s anything wrong.”

Fishlegs and Ruffnut both nodded. It had been easy getting rid of the two guards when there had been four of them. They figured that this was Dagur’s personal tent. It was large, about the same size as the command tent, and positioned farther back from everything else at the edge of the camp. It had to be it.

Snotlout hesitated when he reached for the tent flap. If this was truly it then he was about to see Hiccup again after nearly three months. He was suddenly scared, scared to see what changes he’d most likely undergone. What would he look like?

But then Snotlout shoved aside his fear, (there was no time for it), and went into the tent, Tuffnut behind him. A few lanterns lit up the space along with a brazier. Someone was standing with their hands tied above them to one of the beams, and it took Snotlout a few moments to realize that it was Hiccup. It was Hiccup standing there naked, staring at him and Tuffnut wide-eyed with his mouth agape. His hair had grown out to touch his shoulders, and he was so thin his bones were poking out. There was what looked to be a collar around his neck, dark, gruesome bruises trailing out from under it. His hips were colored black and purple with bruising, and there was some sort of mark on his chest that Snotlout couldn’t discern from here. From what he could see, his back appeared to be covered in scarring.

“I-I thought you didn’t care.” His voice was the same. Snotlout didn’t know why he’d expected it to be different. Maybe it was because it didn’t seem like he was truly looking at Hiccup, and so Hiccup’s voice shouldn’t be coming from him. Tears welled in Hiccup’s eyes, and they hardly looked like the eyes he remembered. They were dull and tired, the brightness gone from them. “I thought you-” His words were interrupted by a sob- “Thought you didn’t care.”

Snotlout took a step forward. “Hiccup, we do care. That’s why we’re here.”

Hiccup shook his head. “No, no. D-Dagur said you didn’t care, th-that my dad said I wasn’t- wasn’t worth it.” 

“You actually _listened_ to him?” Tuffnut asked incredulously. “Hiccup, come on, you had to have known he was lying!”

Hiccup shook his head again. “I didn’t- I don’t- He’s all… He’s all I have.” He sobbed, and it didn’t stop. Seeing him like this, hearing him like this, broke Snotlout’s heart. And it was clear from the way he was talking that Dagur had seriously messed with his head. There was no time to discuss any of this with him though. They had to get him out of there.

“Tuff, go untie him.” Snotlout looked him over again, found a chain attached to his right ankle. He drew his axe. “I’ll take care of the chain.”

Hiccup fiercely shook his head. “No, no, no! It doesn’t matter! It doesn’t matter!”

They both went up to Hiccup, set on freeing him. Now that he was closer, Snotlout could see a white-ish substance on him, and it made his stomach clench with nausea. There were other things that were visible up close, more bruises, and Snotlout drew his eyes away from his body. He focused on the chain, adjusted the grip on his axe.

“What do you mean it doesn’t matter?” Tuffnut asked.

“Look at me!” Hiccup cried. “Actually look at me! He-He…” He couldn’t finish, broke off into more crying. Snotlout looked up, studying him even though he didn’t really want to. There were runes carved into his right thigh, and it took him a moment to realize that it was Dagur’s name. A nervous sweat tingled at his palms and forehead, like there was something that was worse to see and he already knew it, but didn’t want to admit it. He saw the bruises on his hips, his waist, the ones there almost shaped like hands. There was a huge scar that started at his pelvis and arced into his left side. Then his eyes went higher, to his chest, and he saw what Hiccup wanted him to see, and he found that the dread that had been settling like a rock in his stomach was perfectly reasonable. The Berserker crest was on his chest, and it was a reddish-pink like a burn scar. It was a brand. Dagur had branded him. Hiccup was his property.

“Dagur… He branded you.” Tuffnut’s words resonated with horror.

Hiccup nodded, his eyes squeezed shut. “Y-you see? That’s why it doesn’t matter. Just… just leave me!”

“Hiccup, we’re not leaving you!” Snotlout lifted his axe, swung it down, and broke the chain. “Tuff, untie him. We’re going and Hiccup’s coming with us.”

“No, _no_. Leave me! Please just leave me!” His body, now so fragile and broken-looking, heaved with sobs as Tuffnut reached up and began untying the rope from his wrists. “L-leave me!”

“Hiccup, stop it! We’re here to rescue you! You’re coming with us!” Tuffnut cried. There was no anger in his voice though. Just hope and a bit of desperation.

Hiccup abruptly clamped his mouth shut, choked on a sob. Tuffnut finished untying his wrists and he lowered his arms, rubbed at them. There was rope burn there, and more bruises. 

“S-sorry,” Hiccup got out, his voice very small all of a sudden, frightened.

“Hiccup, you don’t have anything to apologize for,” Snotlout said gently. He didn’t want him to be scared. “Now, do you…” He hated what he had to ask. “Do you have clothes?”

Hiccup nodded. “But can I- can I clean up first?” He sobbed again, but it was small. He wiped at the tears on his face.

“Hiccup, you don’t even have to ask,” Tuff told him. “We’ll turn our backs, okay?”

“Okay.” 

Snotlout And Tuffnut turned away from him. They didn’t speak, though they both wanted to. They just glanced at each other. Though, Snotlout wondered what there even was to say.

They heard Hiccup moving around behind them, heard the splash of water, then after a few moments more of his light footsteps and a rustle of fabric. Then they heard nothing but what could have been quiet crying. Snotlout And Tuffnut looked at each other again, questioning.

“Hiccup, are you decent?” Snotlout asked hesitantly. 

They waited a little bit, but they weren’t given an answer, so they turned around to look. Hiccup lay on the cot in the tent on his stomach, his face in his arms. He was dressed in a red robe and nothing else.

 _Oh Thor, that’s all he has_ , Snotlout realized. Anger surged up in him at Dagur, at his cruelty. He hoped that he was dead by now, that Heather had delivered the killing blow. He couldn’t stand the thought of that monster still being alive, especially not now when he was seeing what he’d done to Hiccup.

“Hiccup, we have to go,” Snotlout said softly, going over to him. He laid a hand on his back and Hiccup flinched at it, so he quickly removed it. It made him wonder if some of the scars on his back weren’t scars at all and were still healing, if the touch had hurt him in some way.

“ _No_. I can’t. I-I belong to him. It’s-it’s not r-right to try- to try to t-take me a-away from him. Not right.”

“Hiccup, he took you away from us,” Tuffnut said.

“I-I know h-he did.” Hiccup sounded so confused. “But… he owns me. Dagur o-owns me. Y-you can’t…” 

“Hiccup, come on, we have to go.” Snotlout let the urgency into his voice. This was taking too long.

Hiccup peeked up at them from over his arms. His next words he said without stuttering, without crying: “But I don’t matter.”

Snotlout felt like his heart was crushed. “Hiccup…” He didn’t know what to say. There wasn’t just one sentence that could undo what appeared to be months of brainwashing. “You do matter. You matter to us. That’s why we’re here. Don’t you want to go home?”

Hiccup lowered his head again, his voice muffled in his arms. “I-I am home.”

“Guys!” Fishlegs’ voice from outside. “We have to go! What’s taking so long?!”

“Hiccup, we came here for you and we’re not leaving without you! Come on!” Tuffnut grabbed Hiccup by the arm, tugged, but Hiccup just moaned despairingly.

“Hiccup, _please_.” Snotlout could hear a commotion outside, shouting and rushing footsteps. Then he heard Fishlegs’ and Ruffnut’s dragon calls. They’d been found out.

Hiccup said nothing, and Tuffnut just looked to Snotlout questioningly.

Snotlout didn’t want to do this, but: “Tuff, pick him up.”

“How do I do that without hurting him?” Tuffnut hissed at him.

“I don’t know, but there doesn’t seem to be any other way he’s coming with us.” Snotlout couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t fathom why Hiccup would want to stay here, why he didn’t want to go home. At least the most he was doing was being uncooperative and he wasn’t trying to strike them or anything.

Tuff said nothing else, bent over, and scooped up Hiccup rather easily. He yelped in what could have been pain or protest, flailed his arms.

“Tuffnut, put me down!”

“Sorry, H, but you’re coming home whether you want to or not.”

“I _don’t_ want to! Put me down!”

Tuffnut headed for the entrance of the tent, Snotlout following. 

“I know you don’t want to,” Tuffnut said, “but this is better for you. Trust me.”

“I don’t trust you! I don’t trust anyone!” Then suddenly Hiccup struck out, hitting Tuffnut in the face with his fist. Tuffnut gave a surprised shout and dropped him. Once on the ground, Hiccup quickly scrambled to his foot and prosthetic, but he didn’t make a move. He was in a position to run, his eyes wide and terrified, chest heaving. “I-I can’t go home with this.” He tapped at the left side of his chest, his brand. “I can’t. What will everyone think? What will they think?”

“Hiccup, they don’t have to know,” Snotlout told him. He glanced at Tuffnut to see him rubbing his cheek. “Tuff and I won’t tell anyone. Promise.”

“My dad…” Hiccup trailed off, looked at the ground. There were tears in his eyes again, and his stance relaxed. He put his face in his hands. “Oh Thor, I’m so _confused_. Help me! I’m so confused! And I’m scared! I’m so scared!”

Snotlout suddenly realized that not once had anyone mentioned Toothless. If Hiccup couldn’t find it in himself to go back for them, he could go back for Toothless. He loved his dragon.

“Toothless! Hiccup, think about Toothless!” There were the sounds of explosions outside, screams, and the ground shook a little.

Hiccup lowered his hands. “Toothless?”

“Yeah, he’s waiting back at Dragon’s Edge for you,” Tuff told him.

Hiccup’s face lit up a little, a small spark flickering in his eyes, reminiscent of the light that used to be there. “I-I can do it for Toothless.”

“Good.” Snotlout stepped forward. “So let’s get out of here, because it sounds like it’s getting pretty bad out there.”

 

Hiccup limped out of the tent, shivering at the cold air, at the touch of his bare foot on the ground. Being out here frightened him. The last time he’d been out Dagur had gotten him, had punished him for it. The scars on his back almost seemed to twinge at the memory of it.

 _But Dagur can’t get me. He can’t get me._ He had Snotlout and Tuffnut on either side of him, and in front of him were Ruffnut and Fishlegs, Meatlug, Hookfang, and Barf and Belch blasting away to keep Dagur’s soldiers away from them.

“Guys, we got him!” Snotlout called, and Hiccup shrank back when Fishlegs and Ruffnut turned to look at him. He definitely wasn’t as vulnerable as when Snotlout and Tuffnut had first seen him, but he didn’t _want_ anyone to see him. It took all of his willpower to not hide behind Tuffnut. It wouldn’t have worked well though: Hiccup was taller than him.

Fishlegs’ eyes lit up when he saw him, but then the light in them quickly died, turned to concern, horror even. Hiccup looked away from his gaze, to Ruffnut’s, and her eyes held the same expression. He drew his eyes away from both of them, looking at the ground instead, waiting to feel judgment in their gazes, disdain and disgust. Surely that’s what they all felt towards him. 

“Hiccup, who do you want to ride with?” The question was from Fishlegs, hurried.

“Um, I’ll, uh, ride with you.” He tried meeting Fishlegs’ eyes when he answered, but couldn’t, his eyes flitting away again.

“Meatlug, come here, girl!”

Meatlug drew away from the fighting and bounded over. Hiccup found himself smiling a little when he looked at her. He hadn’t seen a dragon in a long time. He reached out his hand, and she went to him, pressed her nose affectionately against his palm. He suddenly wanted to cry again at the feeling of her scales under his palm. He didn’t know why. He just wanted to cry about everything.

“Hiccup, can you get on on your own?” Fishlegs asked. 

Hiccup wanted to say that he could, but he knew that he couldn’t. His hips hurt too much. 

“No.”

Then Fishlegs’ hands were on his waist and he wanted to scream and kick in panic. He didn’t want to be touched. Well, he did, but he didn’t, and oh gods, that hurt his ribs when he was lifted off the ground, and he waited for a body to press into his, waited for his robe to be taken from him. His thoughts ground to a halt when he felt the saddle underneath him, and he blinked, looked around. Right. Fishlegs had just been putting him on Meatlug. He hadn’t had any other intent for touching him. Hiccup drew a deep breath, though he couldn’t help flinching when Fishlegs hopped on behind him.

Then everyone was mounted, and they quickly took to the air. Hiccup lurched at the motion, no longer used to it, and Fishlegs’ arm went protectively around his waist. Hiccup closed his eyes at the touch. He tried taking a deep breath and exhaling nice and slow, but a whimper came out of him instead. He didn’t know why. It was so strange feeling someone else’s hand, to be touched by someone that wasn’t Dagur. It didn’t feel right, foreign. No one else was allowed to touch him. Only Dagur. Just Dagur. And now he was leaving him, being flown away…

“Hiccup, are you alright?” Fishlegs loosened his grip, clearly fearful of hurting him.

Hiccup didn’t know what to say. No. No he wasn’t alright. He didn’t want to be here, up on a dragon and flying away. He didn’t want to be anywhere. None of it made any sense to him. He hated Dagur, but now, being taken away from him, it hurt. It terrified him. He’d told Dagur he’d never try to leave him again. He’d promised.

“Y-you’re not hurting me.” He knew that was what Fishlegs had meant. He couldn’t possibly be asking about his state in general. Now wasn’t the time to talk about it.

Hiccup opened his eyes, looked at the camp below him. It didn’t seem real. He was outside, out of the tent, up in the air. He was… no. He wasn’t free. There was no such thing as free. Freedom had been taken from him when he was branded. He’d never be free again. What was the point of this? What was the point of rescuing him if he couldn’t be free? He idly thought of just jumping off of Meatlug. Surely a fall from here would kill him. He could see nothing but light below.

Two figures rose from the camp, wings beating. Hiccup watched them come closer, join the rest of the Dragon Riders. Stormfly and Windshear, and on them respectively were Astrid and Heather. He couldn’t make out details of them in the dark, so hopefully they couldn’t make out anything about him. He shrank back against Fishlegs.

“Hiccup!” Astrid’s voice. He hadn’t expected to ever hear it again. He hadn’t expected to hear any of them ever again, and now they were all around him. He was so confused. Why were they here if they didn’t care, if he didn’t matter? He didn’t matter, right? Not to anyone but Dagur, at least. That’s what he’d told him…

“Astrid.” Her name came out funny, almost emotionless. His tongue wasn’t used to it. He didn’t know what else to say to her, save to acknowledge that he’d heard her and could see her. Luckily, he didn’t have to say anything else, as Snotlout called out.

“Heather, you better tell us that Dagur is dead!”

Hiccup felt like he’d been punched. Dagur? Dead? He’d wanted him dead. He’d told him so, but the thought of him actually being dead made him feel suddenly very empty inside. He was all he had, and if he was dead-

“I don’t think the wound I managed to inflict is going to kill him,” Heather answered, sounding rather dismal, disappointed. 

“What?!” Snotlout cried. “Why not?!”

“I-I… There was a struggle and I only managed to stab him with my left hand. I’m sorry. I tried.”

Hiccup looked down, at the camp getting farther away from them, the lights growing dim. So Dagur wasn’t dead. He was down there, and without him. He wasn’t with him. It didn’t seem real. It felt like he was dreaming, though he hadn’t dreamt in a very long time. He inhaled, wishing that the feeling of a weight crushing him would go away. He was… No, he wasn’t free. His mind kept going in circles. He wanted to say the word free, to think it, but it wasn’t true. It could never be true. He wasn’t free. He was escaping, he was… rescued, but he wasn’t free.

Then he wanted to tell them to go back, to take him back. He belonged there. He belonged to Dagur, was meant to be with him, was _supposed_ to be with him. He scratched at his brand over the robe. None of this made _sense_. He wanted to scream and just never stop. He wanted to stop breathing, wanted his heart to stop beating. How could this be happening? How could…?

He looked around at everyone. They were hard to see in the dark, but they were there: Astrid, Heather, Ruffnut, Tuffnut, Snotlout, and behind him, Fishlegs. His friends, people he thought he’d never see again, people he thought had forgotten about him and lost their care for him. They were all with him. They’d come for him, had fought for him. How could he not matter to them if they’d done all that? How had they found him if they’d given up searching and no longer cared?

Hiccup looked back at the camp again, or, the direction of it at least. It had faded away into the dark and the clouds. He felt like he was leaving something there, like he was forgetting something important.

 _Bryn. I’m leaving Bryn._ Her body, what was left, was down there somewhere, in the snow, alone.

He felt something pounding at his chest, climbing into his throat. He tried to swallow it down, but it was resilient, hanging on, begging to be released. Hiccup fought it, fought with himself, but there was no way to win. He screamed.

The dragons all abruptly stopped, halting in midair and hovering, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. He screamed at the pain inside of him, at the confusion and terror, screamed to try to get out all these awful things he was feeling. He didn’t want to feel them anymore. He just wanted it to stop hurting.

He heard his… friends… calling his name, but it didn’t matter. He couldn’t quiet himself. Not until he’d gotten it all out.

Eventually, Hiccup stopped. He slouched over, gasping for breath. Fishlegs’ arms was still around his waist, and the other had gone to his shoulder.

“Hiccup, what’s wrong?” he asked gently.

“I-I don’t know, I don’t know! Everything! Everything’s wrong!” He wanted Fishlegs to let go of him, let him just slide off and into the frigid ocean. Hiccup broke down into sobs. He couldn’t believe he was crying again. He’d cried enough that day. He’d cried enough for an entire lifetime. He should be done with crying, but here he was doing it anyway. He was waiting for someone to shout at him to stop. He heard Dagur’s voice, but he knew it was only in his head.

_“Why the fuck are you crying?”_

_I don’t know, I don’t know._

Luckily, that was all he heard in Dagur’s voice. He felt like he was going crazy, like there was some rabid animal in his chest that was tearing him and itself to shreds. Maybe the rabid animal was him. It was in his head too, tearing away just as violently. It hurt. Everything hurt. He’d thought screaming would make it stop, but it hadn’t. Maybe crying would make it stop, would let it out.

“Hiccup, it’s okay.” Fishlegs gave his shoulder a squeeze, probably to try to comfort him, reassure him, but it didn’t work. “You’re out. You’re free.”

Hiccup clenched his teeth down at the word, held them there till his jaw began to hurt, choking on sobs that tried to come out of him and pry his mouth open. 

“Yeah, Hiccup, you’re free.” Astrid’s voice.

Hiccup wanted to hit them.

_Stop, they don’t know. They don’t understand. They don’t know you’re branded. They don’t know you’re Dagur’s._

That word rang over and over again in his head, taunting him relentlessly, and finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. He shrieked, long and loud and clear, and once he had no more breath to continue it he fell silent, just cried quietly.

“Hiccup?” Fishlegs questioned.

“Keep… keep going,” Hiccup said hoarsely. He didn’t know how he said it, or really even why, but it had come out of him, and soon they were listening to him, were moving again, moving forward, moving away from the camp, away from Dagur. He wasn’t free, but he was away from him, and that was good… wasn’t it?


	76. Chapter 75

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost ended this chapter on a depressing point, but my sister made me show mercy on you guys because it's Christmas Eve. So, Merry Christmas, guys! Or Happy Snoggletog! Thank you guys for getting this far! Comments are very much appreciated!

Hiccup became nervous when Fishlegs started talking, worried that he’d start asking about how he was doing, but he spoke of inconsequential things, like plants and the weather. What was best about it was that he clearly wasn’t looking for any responses, that he was just talking to calm him, and it worked. It made him feel normal, made him feel like nothing had happened. He was just sitting on a dragon with one of his friends, listening to him talk about some of his favorite topics.

Hiccup looked around at the rest of the Dragon Riders. He wished it wasn’t dark, that he was able to see them and study them and look at how they could have possibly changed. His eyes went to Heather. She would have changed the most out of all of them, if Dagur’s spies had been correct, and how could they be incorrect about something like that? Unless something had happened to the baby, Heather was still pregnant. Though, in the dark, he couldn’t tell. He wondered whose baby it was, how far along she was. He didn’t find himself judging her for it, just questioning. He’d wait for her to tell him. It didn’t feel right to ask such questions.

He was grateful for the dark as well though. They couldn’t see him. They didn’t truly know what he looked like, couldn’t see the collar and the terrible bruises on his neck. Only Snotlout and Tuffnut had seen that. They’d seen everything. They knew what Dagur had done to him, knew that he _owned_ him. He had to quickly stop himself from thinking about that, feeling like he would start screaming again. He brought his attention back to Fishlegs. It was good to hear his voice again, he realized. It was good to be outside, in the air, though he was utterly freezing from it. There _were_ good things about this, about being out of there and away from Dagur.

Hiccup tried to pay attention to Fishlegs, but his thoughts drew away again. How were his friends here? How were they all alive? Viggo had attacked them. He’d seen the coded message saying they were in a dire situation himself. How were they all here?

Then guilt rushed in on him, pulling on him from the inside and trying to make him curl in on himself. Did they know it was him who’d planned the attack?

_No, they couldn’t possibly know. They’d be angry if they did. They’d hate me._

_How do they not hate me anyway? They know what Dagur wanted with me. They know what he did. What do they think of me?_

_And what do Snotlout and Tuffnut think of me? They saw the brand. They know I can’t be chief. They know I’m worthless. Why did they want to save me, then? Why would they want to save someone who was worthless? What will everyone else think when they know about it?_

_No. They won’t know about it. They said they wouldn’t tell anyone._

_But my dad. Oh Thor, my dad._ Fear had stabbed Hiccup in the stomach already, but now the knife was twisting. He felt sick. Surely he couldn’t hide the brand from his dad. How could he? His dad expected him to be chief. And had they told him what Dagur had truly wanted with him? Surely it couldn’t have been kept a secret from him forever. He probably knew, knew that he’d been raped again and again and used for another man’s pleasure.

Hiccup drew in deep breaths, trying to quell his nausea. He didn’t know if his shaking was from the cold or from that, or if it was just a combination of everything. He was utterly terrified of seeing his father again. How was he going to look him in the eye? How was he going to even be in the same room as him? And what if he found out about the brand? What would he think? Would he disown him now that he was useless as an heir, now that he had no more purpose or status in life?

He felt Fishlegs’ arm tighten around him a little, and his breath hitched. He expected that arm to keep tightening, to hurt him, to hold him till he couldn’t breathe, and he waited for it, but it didn’t happen.

“Hiccup, what’s up?” The question was tentative.

“I’m…” Hiccup didn’t know how to answer. _I’m scared. I’m terrified. I don’t want to go home. I feel like I might throw up._ “I’m… cold.” That wasn’t a lie. He really was. It was winter and all he had was his robe. He hated Dagur for not giving him anything else, for only giving him something that barely counted as clothing. He hated the robe itself. It was nothing but a play at decency, an attempt to cover him and make him seem human. It certainly didn’t work at making him feel human, though, he felt much more human with it than without it.

“Agh, sorry. Why didn’t I think of that?” Hiccup heard a sound that must have been Fishlegs hitting himself in the forehead with his other hand. “Hold on. I have a blanket in my saddlebag.” Fishlegs let go of him to grab for the blanket, and Hiccup couldn’t tell if he felt better without his arm around him. He’d thought he would have, and it almost seemed like he could breathe easier, but he also wanted it back, wanted the familiarity of it. 

Fishlegs handed Hiccup the blanket and he took it, wrapped it tightly around himself to keep it from blowing away in the wind. Fishlegs’ arm didn’t go back around him, and he thought maybe he was okay with that. He was okay with him not continuing to talk as well, okay with the silence save for the flap of wings and the rustle of clothing. It was peaceful, and Hiccup found himself closing his eyes.

 

Astrid kept glancing over at Hiccup as she flew. It had become evident that he’d fallen asleep at some point, his head resting back against Fishlegs’ shoulder. That was good. She didn’t want him realizing that she was looking at him, didn’t want his green eyes looking back at her, scared and questioning.

It was an amazing thing to be able to look over and see him, to have him physically with them after so long, but it was also awful. She couldn’t see much of him in the dark, but she didn’t have to to be able to tell that he looked much too thin. She was also able to make out what looked like a collar around his neck, and she was wondering why it hadn’t come off yet. Maybe it couldn’t save for cutting it. There was a metal cuff locked around his right ankle with a bit of chain dangling off of it. They’d apparently had to cut him free. They’d have to get Gobber to remove that once they got back to the Edge.

Looking at him made tears prick at her eyes and she blinked them away, turned her gaze ahead. To think he’d been touched in such awful ways by Dagur, violated again and again, tortured by Viggo… she wanted to scream. She couldn’t even imagine what he’d endured, or how he’d even endured it in the first place. She’d never met anyone with strength like his. He was even stronger than her, probably stronger than his own father. It wasn’t physical strength, but mental and emotional, a will that couldn’t be rivaled by anyone else’s.

__

_Oh gods, but what if his will’s broken?_ She closed her eyes, a few tears sliding free. She didn’t wipe them away; the wind would quickly dry them and she didn’t want the other Riders to see. _What if Dagur broke him?_

Astrid didn’t look at Hiccup for the rest of the flight.

 

Hiccup was jarred awake by a sudden movement. He gave a pained and startled cry, opened his eyes, arms flailing. Where was he? What was going on?

An arm wrapped around him from behind and he screamed and thrashed, going into a panic. That arm was going to squeeze him too hard, pick him up, _hurt_ him, and-

“Hiccup! It’s me! It’s Fishlegs! It’s okay. We’re just landing.”

Hiccup stopped moving, took the time to look around him. In the dark he could tell that they were descending towards an island he didn’t recognize.

“D-Dragon’s Edge?” he asked, still groggy and confused as to why they were stopping.

“We’ll make it there in about two days,” Fishlegs answered, letting go of him. Hiccup could breathe much easier once he did. “It’s a long flight and we all need to rest. We stopped here yesterday.”

“Y-yeah, okay. Hold on, two days? Wh-where was I?” Hiccup was surprised he hadn’t asked that yet. He’d been wondering for months where he was.

“Greenland,” Fishlegs answered.

“That far?”

“Yep.” Fishlegs landed Meatlug carefully, though the impact jarred Hiccup and he winced. Fishlegs hopped off easily, but Hiccup stayed where he was. He wanted to get off the dragon, but he hurt everywhere and didn’t want to move.

“Hiccup, you want help getting off?” Fishlegs offered.

“No, no, I’m okay.” Hiccup looked around to make sure the others weren’t watching. They were moving about and setting up camp, talking in hushed voices. The dragons were roaming around, using their fire to clear the snow. There was a lot of tension in the air. Were they talking about him? The thought made him very uncomfortable. His eyes flitted to Snotlout and Tuffnut. Certainly they’d kept their promise and hadn’t told anyone about his brand. Hopefully they weren’t telling everyone else about the other things they’d seen either, about Dagur’s name carved into him or the scars on his back.

“Hiccup, you’re gonna have to get off Meatlug sometime,” Fishlegs said from beside him, drawing him out of his thoughts. He looked to see him reaching a hand out towards him. “Seriously. Let me help you.”

“No,” Hiccup responded sternly. “I’ve got it.” He braced himself and then tried to swing one leg over. He barely moved, a groan passing through his gritted teeth. His next try was just as unsuccessful and even more painful. His hips just didn’t want to work.

He yelped as he was suddenly grabbed by the waist and lifted up. He instantly began struggling, kicking the blanket off of him and letting the cold attack him as well.

“No! Oh gods, put me down! Please!”

And then suddenly he was standing on solid ground, gasping, heart thudding hard against his ribs. He looked around to find the other Riders looking at him in shock and dismay. His face heated and he looked down at the ground to avoid their gazes.

“Hiccup, why don’t you go sit down?” Fishlegs suggested gently, breaking the awful silence.

Hiccup, incapable of words at the moment, just nodded his head a little. He started limping over towards a tree, planning on sitting behind it where no one could see him. It hadn’t been cleared of snow, but at the moment he didn’t care. He just wanted to be away from them, away from their looks and discussions. They would have a fire set up soon, and they would be able to see him. 

His legs decided to give out on him before he got there, and Fishlegs was there to catch him. He didn’t panic this time, though something inside him was trying to, begging to be released.

“Tree,” Hiccup said, nodding his head towards it.

“But, Hiccup, it’s not cleared of snow,” Fishlegs argued. 

“Don’t care.”

“Hiccup, you’ll freeze. Come on. Sit over here instead.” Fishlegs was directing him towards a rock, and there was nothing Hiccup could do but go along with him. Meatlug was following along behind them. Though, once sitting, the ground warm underneath him from the dragon’s fire, Hiccup shuffled around the back of it.

“Hiccup, do you need anything?” Fishlegs asked. He came around the side of the rock. “I can cut off that collar.”

Hiccup blinked, looked away from him. He hadn’t thought about that, hadn’t realized that the collar could come off of him now. There would be no one that would be angry with him for having it off. _Dagur_ wouldn’t be angry with him. Dagur wouldn’t know.

“Do it,” he said. He tilted his head to give Fishlegs access to it. The movement had him expecting lips to press into the side of his neck, and it was like he almost felt it, felt a phantom of a beard scratching his skin. He held in a whimper.

“Meatlug, I need some light, girl.”

Meatlug spewed a small puddle of lava that landed near Hiccup, but not dangerously close. It cast orange light onto him and he almost moved back from it, almost told Fishlegs to not cut the collar, but he decided he needed it gone. He heard him draw his knife and his pulse and breath quickened. His hands tightened into fists when he knelt down near him and he squeezed his eyes shut.

_It’s Fishlegs. He won’t hurt me, he won’t me. It’s just Fishlegs._

“Hiccup, relax,” Fishlegs told him gently. He must have noticed his reaction. 

Hiccup drew a deep breath, though it released as a sob. He felt the knife come near him and he flinched, moved away.

“F-Fishlegs, I can’t! I can’t! Leave it!”

The knife was no longer near him.

“Hiccup, are you sure you don’t just want it off of you? It’ll be quick.”

Hiccup’s bottom lip quivered. “I want it off but I…” He trailed off, swallowed past the ache in his throat. “I can’t do it.”

“Alright.” Fishlegs said it in a disappointed manner. “It’s just… hard to see on you.”

“I know.” Hiccup was afraid that he’d push him to do it anyway, especially with those last words, but he heard him sheath the knife. His heart began to slow, and he let himself open his eyes. He didn’t look at him though, just at the puddle of lava. There was light from behind them now. His friends had started a fire. He felt like there was a stone in his stomach.

“Hiccup, can I ask how you got those bruises on your neck?” Fishlegs questioned carefully. “They look awful. What’d Da- What’d he do?”

Hiccup rubbed at his neck, at the collar. He wished the bruises would just go away already, that they weren’t there to serve as a reminder of what he’d tried doing, that they weren’t there to be seen by his friends. He wished he wasn’t there to be seen by them either. He wished Dagur hadn’t run in and saved him. He wished he were dead.

“Dagur didn’t do it.” 

“Did Viggo?”

“Huh?” _Viggo? Why would he-? How would he know I saw Viggo?_

“It was your plan he used to try to take Dragon’s Edge, wasn’t it?”

Hiccup’s eyes went big. They knew. Oh Thor, they knew. They hated him. They had to.

“Hiccup, it’s okay.” Fishlegs put a hand on Hiccup’s shoulder and Hiccup’s eyes went to it, to make sure that it would stay there and not touch him anywhere else. “We don’t blame you for it. We know you didn’t have a choice.”

“But I did have a choice,” Hiccup said a little hoarsely, mouth having gone dry. “I had a choice to keep my mouth shut and just let him-” _fuck me because I’m a whore and I deserve it-_ “hurt me.”

“Okay, well, then you didn’t have a very good choice,” Fishlegs ceded. “You had to tell him. It’s okay. No one blames you.”

 _I blame me._ Hiccup didn’t say this out loud. There was no point. How could Fishlegs not blame him? How could he not see that he was weak and terrible for what he’d done, for giving Viggo the information?

“But Viggo caused those, right? It can sometimes take a long time for bruises to heal, so-”

“He didn’t do it either,” Hiccup cut him off. 

“Then who?” Fishlegs asked, tilting his head in confusion.

“No one that matters,” Hiccup answered sullenly. The answer would probably make Fishlegs think it was some random soldier that had done it. “Now, Fishlegs, I don’t want to talk about any of it. Could you just…” He sighed, knowing his next word could be hurtful. “Go? I’m sure the others need help setting up camp.”

Fishlegs pulled his hand back, looked away from him for a moment. “Uh, yeah, you’re right, you’re right. Sorry.” He didn’t sound as hurt as Hiccup had expected him to be, but it was still there. “Do you need anything?”

“Just, um, water, please.”

“You got it.” Fishlegs stood and left to get the water. He didn’t linger once he came back and handed the flask to him, instead going to help the others set up camp.

The water helped Hiccup calm down a bit, and he leaned his head back and closed his eyes once he was done with it. His gut twisted with shame and embarrassment and a bunch of other things he couldn’t discern. He should be happy that he’d been rescued, but instead he was just feeling terrible that his friends were seeing him like this, all weak and battered and panicking at every little touch. And now Fishlegs had seen the collar, had seen the bruises on his neck. Even worse was that they obviously had no idea how to act around him, and he wasn’t sure himself how he wanted them to act.

_Maybe it would be better if they just left me here to die._

But no, that was a stupid thought, a senseless one born of despair. He didn’t want to die, he realized, not really, especially now that he’d been rescued. He wasn’t with Dagur anymore. He’d see Toothless again. There were reasons to live, but he just wanted to be left alone.

And yes, they had rescued him, but he wasn’t free. He’d never be free. 

An ache formed in his throat and tears stung at his eyes, but he couldn’t cry. Not now. Not here. Not _again_. He pulled his robe tighter around him to make absolutely sure that his brand was concealed. He couldn’t believe that Tuffnut and Snotlout had seen it, had seen him tied up, naked and vulnerable. They’d seen everything.

 _But they promised they wouldn’t tell anyone_ , he reasoned. That helped a little. He knew that they’d keep that promise and wouldn’t tell anyone what was under his robe.

Oh gods, he was crying now. There were tears streaming down his face and he was choking on a sob. He rolled onto his side and curled his knees up to his chest, not caring how hard the ground was or how it hurt his hips. He tried holding back the tide of emotion, but that only resulted in a growing pang in his chest. His lip was trembling and his hands were shaking. He couldn’t hold it in anymore.

Hiccup released it in a loud wail, and once he took a breath there was another. He couldn’t stop. He was screaming out his despair, Hel if everybody heard. He had a right to it, didn’t he?

It was only a matter of moments before his friends were gathered around him. He felt a hand on his shoulder, familiar - Astrid’s. He tried to throw it off, but she wouldn’t budge. He buried his head in his hands and just kept screaming, tears quickly soaking through his robe and onto his arm. He didn’t know what he wanted: to be left alone or to be surrounded by those he cared about? Everything was positively dreadful and he wanted each labored breath to be his last. Where before he had wanted to live and thought his wish for death was stupid, now he wanted to die, truly die, stop moving, stop breathing, stop thinking and feeling and _suffering_.

What he was thankful for though was that none of them asked what was wrong. They just offered words of comfort, telling him that he was safe and he’d be home soon. They knew what was wrong. There was no need to ask. They knew what Dagur had done to him, what he’d used him for, and that just made him want to die even more. He didn’t want anyone to know. He just wanted it to have stayed between him and Dagur… and Bryn. Their knowing about it made it worse. Since they knew they could judge him, could hate him. And Snotlout and Tuffnut… They knew he was useless, yet he heard their voices among everyone else’s, trying to calm him, to comfort him. Why were they doing that when they knew more than everyone else, when they knew that he wasn’t his own person? Why did they care? Why did any of them care?

His screaming died down into quiet, broken sobs, mostly because he was losing his voice. He was able to hear everyone’s words more clearly, and it was beginning to help him calm down. They were right. He was safe, safe with _them_. Dagur couldn’t get him when he was with them. Dagur couldn’t do anything to him, couldn’t get angry and hurt him. He’d be okay.

His world, which he’d begun piecing back together, shattered again when Astrid said: “It’s okay, Hiccup. You’re free.”

 _Free._ That word was the worst thing he’d ever heard. He wasn’t _free_. He never could be free. Freedom didn’t exist. Freedom was a _lie_.

Despite his raw throat, he suddenly screamed as hard and as loud as he could, anguish tearing him up inside. He wished it could somehow kill him. Even better, he wished that the brand could somehow be torn right out of him, because it wasn’t just _on_ him. It was inside him, burned deep into his muscle and tissue. He wanted the brand to be gone, wanted to be free, and without it he would be, but it remained in his flesh, over his heart like it was taunting him for its beats and the fact that he was still living.

Hiccup only screamed once before quieting down though. He was losing the strength to keep crying, was gasping for breath more than he was actually sobbing. His tears were slowing.

He managed to calm in the next few minutes, no longer crying, just breathing hard and shaking. He was hurting more than he had been before. He hated that crying could actually cause physical pain, but he had to admit that he felt a little better for it, felt like his thoughts were a little clearer.

Everyone was quiet for a while, and he actually found the presence of the other Riders comforting. He hadn’t been with all of them in such a long time, and the feeling was as familiar to him as it was foreign. He was with his friends again. He thought he’d never have that ever again, that all he’d have for the rest of his life was Dagur, not his friends, but they were here with him, were here _for_ him.

Hiccup sniffled and opened his eyes, finding that the dragons had joined him as well, creating a protective ring around him. He wished Toothless was there too.

 _I’ll see him soon_ , he reminded himself, and he almost smiled. Soon. He’d see Toothless soon. It seemed impossible, like he was just dreaming.

Hiccup sat up despite the pain he was in, and Astrid’s hand slid off his shoulder. He wiped his face on his sleeves.

“Thank you,” he said weakly. He lowered his arms and looked at all of them, at the care and concern on their faces. “Thank you so much. I-I…” he wanted to tell them he loved them, just out of instinct and because that’s what he used to do, but he didn’t. What even was love? What was so good about it? “Thank you.” He suddenly wanted to be hugged, to just be enveloped by all of them at once, but that was also the last thing he wanted, and they seemed to realize it. He knew it must be hard for them not being able to provide physical comfort, and it was hard for him not being able to receive it. All he wanted was to be wrapped in their arms and told that the world wasn’t as bad as he thought it was, that he was safe and wouldn’t be hurt again.

“I-I’m sorry I’m like this,” he continued. “I’m sorry I’m a mess. I-”

“Hiccup, what the Hel are you apologizing for?!” Ruffnut cried.

“I…” Hiccup trailed off, looked at her. He didn’t know how to explain what he was feeling. He didn’t want to be like this around his friends, wanted to be happy. They deserved to see him happy, didn’t they? Wasn’t he supposed to be happy? And how were they not mad at him for all this? How could they have just stood there and let him cry without yelling at him and telling him to stop? Why had no one hit him? “Isn’t crying bad?”

His friends looked between each other before looking back at him. 

“Um… no,” Heather said. “If anyone deserves to cry don’t you think you do?”

Hiccup looked down at his hands. “No. I’m rescued, so why would I-? Why do I feel like this? Why do I feel so awful?”

Astrid’s hand rested on his shoulder again. “Hiccup, you were with him for a really long time. It’s going to take some time to recover.”

Hiccup didn’t look at her. He didn’t want to. He’d just feel guilty if he did. What he’d done with Dagur was a betrayal to their relationship, and he’d kissed Bryn…

 _But I thought I’d never see her again_ , he told himself, trying to justify it. He could justify his relationship with Bryn at least. He couldn’t justify anything he’d done with Dagur, couldn’t say that it was okay that he’d cooperated with him and done what he’d told him to, couldn’t justify that he’d done it because he needed it, because he was a disgusting animal that now knew nothing but sex. He shrugged Astrid’s hand off.

“Yeah, I guess.” His tone was glum.

“Hiccup, just know that we love you, okay man?”

Hiccup’s eyes went big, and he found himself suddenly standing, pointing a finger at Tuffnut. “Don’t you dare say that! Don’t you dare say you love me!”

Tuffnut blinked in shock. Hiccup waited, waited for him to yell back, for him to hit him. He had every right to. There was a bruise under his right eye from where he’d punched him in the face.

“But, Hiccup, what’s wrong with that?” He asked, clearly confused.

“Because you shouldn’t love me!” Hiccup shouted. “You shouldn’t! And what the fuck is so good about love anyway? Doesn’t it just mean you’ll hurt me?”

“Hiccup, that’s not… that’s not how it works,” Astrid said tentatively, standing. Hiccup turned on her, tried to back away but just bumped against the rock. He suddenly felt very trapped with everyone around him. When before their presence had been comforting, now it felt threatening.

“But that’s…” Hiccup was confused. What did Astrid mean that wasn’t how it worked? “But Dagur said he loved me, and he hurt me.”

“Dude, I don’t think Dagur knows what love is,” Snotlout said. “Like, not even a little bit.”

“No, he does, he does.” Hiccup shook his head, confused. Dagur did love him. He’d told him again and again, and he’d felt it from him in rare moments, had seen it in his eyes. He knew what love felt like, and he’d felt it from Dagur. “He told me.”

“Well then he’s just a filthy liar.” Fishlegs. 

“No, I… I felt it.” Hiccup put his head in his hands, wishing he could hide all of himself from them, but then he peeked out, looked at Heather. “You know what I mean, right?”

Heather frowned, looked away from him, obviously not liking her relationship with Dagur being mentioned. Hiccup felt bad for bringing it up, but he just hadn’t known who to turn to, who would understand him. She was quiet for a few moments, but finally she said:

“Yeah, I know what you mean. He knows what love is. He just sucks at showing it.” She looked back to Hiccup, and he lowered his eyes, too frightened to meet her gaze. “But, Hiccup, love is good, okay? It doesn’t mean anyone’s going to hurt you. It means the opposite.”

“But Dagur-”

“Is the worst person possible to base any ideas of love off of, okay?” Heather interrupted. “You have to get anything he told you out of your head.”

 _But how? It’s true._ Hiccup didn’t say this though. He knew they wouldn’t understand. They didn’t know all of what Dagur had told him, didn’t know the truth in it. He just nodded.

“Okay, so let’s try this again,” Heather said. “Hiccup, we all love you and we’re never going to hurt you.”

Hiccup lifted his head, tried looking at each of his friends, but couldn’t. His heart was pounding. They said he loved him, but how could they? What was in their eyes? He was curious, but he was too frightened to see. His throat hurt when he spoke.

“I love you guys too.” He did. It was the first time he’d said it in such a long time without it being a lie. It was hard to make it come out. He thought he’d never get to say it to them again, that the only person he’d ever say he loved in his future was Dagur. Dagur had been his future, and now he wasn’t, and he didn’t know what to do with it. 

Hiccup made himself look up at them and smile, and the longer he held it, the longer he looked at them, the more it became real. He was smiling for real.

“Awesome,” Snotlout said. He was looking a little sheepish. “Now is all the sappy stuff over? ’Cause I’m hungry.”

Hiccup laughed. It was such a simple thing, such a good thing. _So like Snotlout._ “Yeah, it is.”


	77. Chapter 76

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has the sadness that I mercifully withheld from you on Christmas Eve. Hope you enjoy! As always, comments are awesome and thank you for reading!

Dagur came to slowly, hurting and disoriented. He was laid out somewhere on his back, and he figured based on the level of comfort that it was on his cot in his tent. He lazily reached his right arm out for Hiccup, expecting to come in contact with his back or his side, because that’s how it always was. Hiccup was always there beside him. His hand fell on nothing, the spot next to him cold. Confused, he reached his other arm out, but found nothing there either.

His eyes shot open and he tried to sit up, but was stopped by a burning in the right side of his abdomen. He groaned, put a hand to the wound to find it bandaged. His eyes searched frantically around the tent as memory came back to him. Heather had stabbed him, Astrid had killed one of his guards… They’d come for Hiccup.

And now Dagur didn’t see him. Heart pounding, he finally got himself sitting up. He looked down to the floor, saw Hiccup’s chain, but Hiccup wasn’t attached to it. The cuff was gone too, like the chain had just been cut. He was gone.

“No, Hiccup, come on.” Tears welled in his eyes and he let them fall. “Why’d you go with them? Why?” Dagur couldn’t fathom that Hiccup would have, that he’d just abandon him like that. He’d said he wouldn’t.

_Maybe he didn’t go with them willingly. Maybe he didn’t want to go and they just took him._

The thought was supposed to make Dagur feel a little better, but it didn’t work. It hurt either way. It didn’t matter if Hiccup had gone willingly or if he’d been taken. He was still gone. _Gone._

“ _No!_ ” Dagur wanted to break something, but all he could do was uselessly pound his fists and yell. “No! No, no, _no!_ ” Hiccup wasn’t here, wasn’t with him like he was supposed to be. Rage and sadness tore at his chest. He wanted to get up and go get him back right this instant. He shouldn’t be anywhere but with him, but he wasn’t. The Dragon Riders had taken him from him.

Dagur buried his head in his hands, sobbing loudly, uncaring that his guards would here. He was surprised they weren’t rushing in yet to see what was wrong.

_No, they know what’s wrong. They know I don’t have Hiccup._

Dagur didn’t know why he wanted his guards there. He just - He wanted someone to comfort him, but he had no one. He wanted _Hiccup_ to comfort him, though if Hiccup were here he wouldn’t need comforting in the first place.

His sobs made his wound hurt more, but he couldn’t possibly stop, not when his Hiccup was gone.

“Not fair, not fair!” He shouted it, but then his next words were quieter, a whimper: “Not fair. I love him. I love him a-and they took him away.”

Dagur screamed. He couldn’t stand all that he was feeling, couldn’t stand that he was being made to feel it in the first place. He doubled over, one hand to his wound, the other over his face. Each sob and heave hurt more than the last, and he knew he should stop, could feel the movements pulling at what must be stitches. Eventually he did stop, and then he just sat there. He didn’t want to just sit there. He wanted to get his axe and _kill_. He didn’t care who it was at the moment. He just wanted to feel the weapon bite into flesh, wanted to see the blood fly. It could be his own soldiers, slaves or servants. None of them mattered. They could all die. They should. They’d failed at keeping him safe, at keeping Hiccup safe. And then after he’d satisfied his need, at least for the time being, he’d go after the Dragon Riders, after Berk. He’d kill them all for taking him from him.

Dagur threw the blankets off of him, swung his legs over the side of the cot. He pushed himself to stand. He wavered when he did, sat back down. He tried again, but the same thing happened. He was weak.

“Damn you, Heather,” he sneered. “Damn you.” That was her fault. She’d tried killing him. He wanted to kill her too. Screw the baby, screw her. They could both die.

But not right now. He couldn’t do anything. Right now, he was weak and useless. He lowered his head, panting. 

“Sir, can I come in?”

Dagur’s lip curled. _Savage._

“Yeah, come in!” His voice was choked, and he hated the sound of it. He cleared his throat as Savage entered.

“Sir, I don’t think you should be sitting up. The doctor said-”

“I don’t give a fuck about what the doctor said,” Dagur snapped with a glare. “Come here.”

Savage stepped closer, but was still a few feet away. He looked tentative, nervous.

“No, closer.”

Savage took another step, and Dagur had to keep himself from rolling his eyes. “Closer.” Savage took a few more steps, finally within reach. Dagur took the chance and firmly and quickly punched him in the stomach. Savage doubled over with a choking sound, and Dagur punched him under the jaw. It wasn’t as strong of a blow as he usually delivered, but it still had him stumbling backwards and then falling onto his back. Dagur clenched and unclenched his hand as he looked at Savage on the ground, feeling a little satisfied for having hit him. It had felt good to do so.

After catching his breath, Savage pushed himself up, rubbing at his jaw. “Sir, what was that for?”

Dagur’s nostrils flared with anger at the question. “You know what that was for!” he shouted. He tried standing, to make himself seem more intimidating. Finally, he got himself standing, but his legs shook. “You let them get away! You let them get away with Hiccup!”

Savage scrambled up, and Dagur sneered, not liking how he was taller than him. He backed away though, definitely looking intimidated. 

“Sir, the attack happened so quickly! There was nothing we could-”

“Don’t give me your excuses!” He took a step forward, hand raised, planning on slapping him, but then his legs buckled. He would have hit the ground, but Savage came forward and grabbed him, helped him sit back down on the cot. Dagur gritted his teeth. _Guess I can’t hit him now._ Still, he glared up at him. “You let them get away.”

“We can send ships after them.”

Dagur thought about it, but then shook his head. “No. They’re too fast.” _And Hiccup could get hurt in an attack._

“What about sending ships to Dragon’s Edge?” Savage suggested. “That’s probably where they’re going.”

Dagur shook his head, realizing that he needed time to think about this, and also that he couldn’t think clearly at the moment. Something didn’t feel right about going to Dragon’s Edge. He didn’t know what, and he probably could have figured it out if he wasn’t in this state, but at the moment, he realized there was nothing he could do. He would just have to let Hiccup go for now. He wouldn’t be without him forever. He’d get him back.

“Let’s not plan right now,” Dagur said. He was feeling drained, tired, and his wound was throbbing.

“Just rest then, sir.”

Dagur nodded, and Savage made to leave.

“No, wait.”

Savage turned back to him. 

“Get me…” Dagur knew his request would sound strange, but then he went on, not caring: “Get me a man. Young, thin. One of the slaves or servants would do.”

Savage furrowed his brow. “Sir, I don’t think in your condition you should be-”

“I’m not gonna fuck him, Savage,” Dagur said with a roll of his eyes. “Just do what I said.”

“Yes, sir.”

Savage left, and Dagur sat, waiting impatiently. He wasn’t replacing Hiccup. No, he couldn’t possibly be replaced. This man could just serve as a stand in. He knew it was ridiculous, but he wanted to go to sleep, and he doubted he could sleep soundly unless he was holding someone. He’d gotten so used to it, had gotten used to having Hiccup against him and in his arms. He wondered if Hiccup would have the same problem, wondered how he was feeling right now without him. 

After a few minutes, Savage came back, shoving a blonde man in front of him. There was fear and confusion in his gray eyes.

“Do you need anything else, sir?”

“That’s all, Savage, thank you.”

Then it was just Dagur and the man he’d asked for. He studied him intently. He looked nothing like Hiccup, though he decided his face was handsome enough, and he looked to be around the same age. He had his head lowered in submission, so it was probably a slave Savage had gotten him.

“Did I do something wrong, chief?” His voice wasn’t right, lower than Hiccup’s.

“No.”

“Then why am I here?”

“Personal reasons,” Dagur responded. “Take off your clothes.”

The man raised his head, looked at him briefly, clearly shocked. “What? Why?”

Dagur didn’t give him an answer, just asked sternly: “Do I need to repeat myself?”

The man lowered his head again, shook it. “No, my lord. Sorry.” Then he began to strip out of his clothing, and Dagur watched intently as he did. He wasn’t muscular like Hiccup had been. As the man became fully undressed, Dagur realized that he wouldn’t be happy with him, that he wouldn’t be happy with anyone save for Hiccup. He supposed he would do for now though. He would have to. Once undressed, the man just stood there, cheeks having gone bright red. Dagur could see how he was breathing heavily, fearfully. Dagur would have been aroused by that if he hadn’t been so tired and pained.

“Wh-what do you want me to do now, chief?” The man asked as Dagur laid back.

Dagur patted the spot next to him, the one that had been Hiccup’s. “Get in bed with me.”

“Sir?”

“Do it or I’ll see to it that you leave here bleeding.”

The man moved quickly at his threat, coming over to the other side of the cot and laying down. Dagur took him and rolled him onto his side with his back facing him, then pulled the blankets over the both of them. Once he was comfortable with that, he wrapped his arms around the man, pulled him close. He flinched at it.

“Chief, what are you doing?”

“Relax. I’m just going to sleep.”

The man drew in a deep breath, relaxed a little against him. It wasn’t Hiccup, but it would have to do for the time being. At least he’d be able to sleep. Dagur closed his eyes, and in the ensuing silence he felt like he was going to cry again. Eventually, he did, quietly, his tears getting on his pillow. He wasn’t holding Hiccup, and he began to despair, worry that he’d never hold him again.

 

Astrid watched Hiccup during dinner. He was quiet, and there wasn’t much conversation from anyone else. They attempted it, but nothing would last long. It was hard to play at things being normal when they so obviously weren’t.

Hiccup wouldn’t look anyone in the eye, mostly keeping his head lowered. It made him look subdued. His body language and posture had completely changed from what it had used to be. He sat with his shoulders hunched, which made him seem smaller and closed off, scared even. There was something different about the way he moved too, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

In the light of the fire, it was obvious just how thin he was, and Astrid was surprised he wasn’t eating more ravenously. There were other things that were clear in the light as well: awful bruises on his neck that looked to go all the way around. She wondered about those, wanted to ask how he’d gotten them, but she didn’t. She hadn’t really said anything to him. She didn’t know _what_ to say.

Another thing she noticed was that the two braids that were always in his hair, made by her, were gone. It was such a small thing, and she’d figured they wouldn’t be there anymore, but it just added to the pang in her chest.

“Hiccup.”

He tensed when Ruffnut said his name, looked towards her, but not at her eyes. 

“Why do you still have that… thing on your neck? One of us can cut it off.”

“Fishlegs already- I don’t like sharp things near me,” Hiccup answered quickly. 

“It would be quick,” Ruffnut told him, clearly wanting to help in some way. 

Hiccup shook his head, looking frightened. Astrid wondered if he feared that Ruffnut would do it anyway.

“Okay, just want to help is all.”

“I-I know.” Hiccup looked at the ground. “Thank you, Ruff, but uh, not right now.”

An uncomfortable silence ensued. There were so many questions hanging in the air, so many things to be talked about but also avoided. The tension was almost thick enough to choke on. Three months of unknown experience stood between Hiccup and them. 

Then Hiccup broke the silence, asking: “How are you all here?”

“What do you mean?” Fishlegs questioned.

“How’d you find me? I thought you-” He shrugged as if they were discussing something inconsequential- “gave up. D-Dag- He said you did, said that…” He paused to take a breath, looking pained. “He said that my dad said it wasn’t worth it.” He looked at all of them, avoided their eyes. “Plus I thought you were all dead or were going to be anyway.”

“So you knew that Da- He was intercepting our mail?” Snotlout inferred. He sat close to Hiccup on his left. Tuffnut was on his other side. They sat up straight and looked attentive, like they were acting as some sort of honor guard.

“Yeah, he told me.” Hiccup shook his head. “I wish there was something I could have done to stop him, or to make sure that the right messages got sent on, but-”

“Hiccup, it’s alright,” Astrid told him. “You were his prisoner. There wasn’t anything you could have done.”

“Yeah, but- never mind.” He waved a hand dismissively. “But seriously, can someone please explain how you’re here?”

“Dagur lied to you, Hiccup,” Tuffnut said. “We didn’t ever give up searching.”

“And eventually someone told us where you were,” Heather added on. “Not long after you were captured, Astrid and I went to Berzerk and I took control, but Dagur had agents in the castle. The first one we caught was murdered, but-”

“The one who tried to assassinate you?” Hiccup interrupted.

Heather tilted her head. “What? How do you know about that?”

“He told me a lot.” Hiccup gestured to her to continue. “Sorry. Go on.”

“Well, uh, anyway, we caught the guy who’d murdered him,” Heather continued. “Turned out he was on the council. Astrid and I couldn’t get anything out of him, but your father managed to.”

“Okay, so that explains how you found me. How are you all still alive? I saw the note from Dragon’s Edge, the one with the symbol saying that you were in dire need of help. I figured that meant Viggo was attacking.”

“Wait, so Dagur got ahold of that message too?” Ruffnut asked. She then pointed to Astrid and Heather. “Then how did these two get it?”

Hiccup’s face began to burn an intense red and he directed his gaze to the ground. “It took some… persuasion.” 

His words were met with silence, and Astrid very nearly lost her appetite. Hiccup must have had to do something for Dagur to get him to send it on unaltered. After learning that he’d been intercepting their messages, she’d just assumed that he hadn’t gotten that one and it had made it to them without any detours. 

“Good gods, Hiccup,” Ruffnut finally said, sounding horrified, clearly understanding what he meant by persuasion. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“But I did.” Guilt was now showing itself atop the shame and embarrassment. “I was the one who got you into that situation in the first place. It was my plan Viggo used, so I had to do _something_ to try to fix it. Besides, it wasn’t the first time I’d… um…” Hiccup paused, made a face almost as if he was choking on something, like the words wanted to come out but he was trying to keep them in. His voice was much quieter when next he spoke, barely audible: “Given myself to him. Viggo’s attack was my fault, so I had to fix it.”

Astrid was quick to try to clear the next silence, trying to shove unwanted images and thoughts out of her head. “Hiccup, Viggo’s attack wasn’t your fault. You can’t blame yourself. We know you had no choice.”

“I could have kept my mouth shut,” Hiccup said bitterly. “I could have tried tricking him.”

“Don’t think about that, alright?” Fishlegs sounded sympathetic. “What matters is that we defeated his attack and we’re all here.”

“Yeah, no thanks to me.” Hiccup looked down at the food in his hands as if he’d forgotten about it, then resumed eating.

“No, _all_ thanks to you,” Astrid insisted. Maybe some gratitude would make him feel better, and by Thor he was deserving of it for getting that message to them. “Without you, that message wouldn’t have made it to Heather and I.”

“Yeah,” Tuffnut piped in. “And Dragon’s Edge would have been lost without the Berserkers. 

“You saved us,” Astrid told him, and very suddenly and very briefly, Hiccup did meet her gaze, wearing the smallest of smiles. Then he was looking away again, unsmiling, and it was almost like she’d imagined it. 

The rest of dinner was quiet, though it felt as though a little of the weight had been lifted. Astrid didn’t like the quiet. It left her time to think. 

Hiccup’s words about that not being the first time he’d given himself to Dagur hurt. To think he’d done that multiple times, made himself seem willing… it just wasn’t right. Astrid hadn’t expected it. Then again, she didn’t truly know any of what she expected. She’d tried her hardest not think about what was happening to Hiccup, but whenever she had, she’d imagined him fighting, struggling, and that had hurt, but in a way this was worse. It was worse to know that at some points he’d just stopped fighting Dagur and let him have him. She doubted the fighting had stopped with that though, that instead of Dagur he’d ended up fighting himself. Hiccup’s struggle had simply changed form. It was hard to think about, to try and consider how he’d been feeling in those moments. Her chest hurt for him. 

After he finished eating, Hiccup stood and went back over to the rock that he’d sat behind earlier, out of range of the firelight, clearly uncomfortable being around all of them. 

“You should go talk to him,” Heather said quietly to Astrid after a time, elbowing her in the arm. 

Astrid shook her head. “I want to give him some privacy.” _And I’m scared to talk to him._ She wasn’t going to say this out loud of course, but she’d allowed herself to admit to it. She was afraid to talk to Hiccup, afraid of what he would say when no one was listening and it was just the two of them. She was afraid of what she herself would say, afraid that it would be the wrong thing. She didn’t know what he needed right now, and it seemed he didn’t know either. He wasn’t the same Hiccup that she’d remembered, and though she’d expected it, it was different having it here right in front of her. It was painful. She knew she wouldn’t get the old Hiccup back right away, but it felt like she hadn’t rescued the same man. The only thing that seemed to be the same about him was his voice, and that wasn’t even completely unchanged, hoarse for the time being from how he’d been screaming with it. She felt like it wasn’t Hiccup with them, but a bad imitation of him.

Astrid instantly felt guilty for thinking it, and she looked towards the rock. It was still Hiccup. _He_ was Hiccup. Changed, different, but Hiccup nonetheless. The man she knew and loved was there somewhere, suffering, and she just had to help him through it.

That had Astrid making up her mind. “Actually, I will go talk to him,” she told Heather, and then she found herself standing, making her way over to the rock. She could hear her heart pounding. She felt ridiculous for being afraid of this. She’d gone into battles with hardly any fear, yet here she was with her heart racing and her hands on the verge of trembling. She circled around the side of the rock to face Hiccup.

“Can I sit?”

He didn’t seem startled to be seeing her here, in his space. He just looked up at her, and his gaze made her sad. His eyes weren’t the same. They seemed dull, devoid of life and will. As the silence continued and he just kept staring at her, Astrid grew afraid that he would say no, but she almost hoped for it at the same time. If he said no she wouldn’t have to talk to him, wouldn’t have to try and say things to somehow make it better. 

“Yes.”

Astrid sat beside him, pulling up her knees. Her arm brushed his robe, and he shuffled a few inches away. She tried not to feel hurt by it, knew that it wasn’t a rejection of her, but just what he had to do to try and feel safe. For a long time neither of them said anything, and Astrid wondered who would speak first. 

A minute passed. Hiccup clearly wasn’t going to say anything unless she did.

“I missed you.” There. That was simple, not very heavy.

Hiccup didn’t respond. As the silence stretched on into a minute, two, she wondered if she should just leave him be. He had walked away from all of them in the first place. He probably didn’t want company. 

“I was afraid I was going to forget what you looked like,” he said, voice nearly emotionless. She was almost shocked that he’d actually spoken. “That I’d forget what all of you looked like.”

Astrid didn’t know what to say to that, but she was saved from speaking as Hiccup continued.

“I missed you too, Astrid.”

Astrid had to fight back the urge to hug him. With the way he’d been reacting to touch, she knew he wouldn’t appreciate it. It was difficult. All she wanted to do was wrap her arms around him and hold him and tell him that he was okay now, that he was safe. She knew that wouldn’t work though. She wished she knew what to do for him.

 _Why don’t I just ask?_ It seemed so simple. Just ask Hiccup how he wanted to be treated.

“What do you want, Hiccup?”

“Um, I don’t… what?”

“I mean, how do you want to be treated? What are your ground rules, your boundaries?”

Hiccup looked to her, and, eyes having grown adjusted to the dark, Astrid could see that he was baffled. He was evidently no longer used to being treated with respect, to being asked what he wanted. 

“I… I don’t know. I’m…” Hiccup paused and breathed a heavy, hopeless-sounding sigh. “Everything’s awful, Astrid.” There were tears in his words. “Everything’s just awful. I don’t know if I want you and everyone else acting like nothing happened, or if it would be b-better to acknowledge it. I-I just w-want a hug, but-” his words were breaking down into sobs- “I don’t w-want anyone t-to touch me.” He dropped his head into his hands. “And I-I know I shouldn’t b-be crying b-because I’m s-safe now, b-but-”

“Hiccup you have _every right_ to be crying,” Astrid interrupted. Sitting still during this and not wrapping him up in her arms was the hardest thing she’d ever done. “None of this is easy for you and you’ve gone through a lot. You can’t just keep it in.”

“B-But shouldn't I-I be happy?” he questioned. “I’m not. I-I mean, I am, but I j-just…” He was interrupted by a sob and it took him a few moments to recover before he went on. “I don’t… I don’t want to be here.”

Astrid tilted her head a little, not really understanding what he meant. She started lifting one hand towards him to rest it on his shoulder, but she stopped herself.

“What do you mean, Hiccup?” she asked gently.

He gave a wild shake of his head. “I don’t know, Astrid!” he cried despairingly. “I don’t know!” He broke down into sobs, and the sound made Astrid’s heart ache. She had no idea what she could do for him, if there even was something she could do for him. She wanted to provide him with comfort, but there was no way she could.

Suddenly, he flung himself into her, wrapping both his arms tight around her and burying his face into her neck and hair. She was startled, and for a moment she didn’t move, unsure of how she should respond. But then she relaxed, wrapped her arms around him and clutched him tight. 

It didn’t take long for Astrid to become soaked in Hiccup’s tears. He just cried and wailed against her chest, shaking and heaving. She cried too, but silently. It was unbearable seeing him in this much pain.

Then her name just came tumbling out of his mouth, over and over again, like some sort of plea for help. It felt like a hammer was being pounded at her chest, and there was the threat of her tears not being so silent. She bit her lip and steeled herself against a sob. She had to be strong for Hiccup. Her crying wouldn’t help anything.

After a few minutes he grew silent save for some sniffles. “Thank you, Astrid,” he said quietly.

“Of course, Hiccup,” she responded gently. “I’ll… I’m here for you.” She had almost said that she’d always be there for him, but that would just drive home how she _hadn’t_ been there for him, how he’d been suffering alone and it had taken them much too long to find him.

Hiccup pressed his nose to her neck and inhaled deeply. Before Astrid could ask what he was doing he said: “You don’t smell like him.”

Astrid’s stomach twisted. Of course Hiccup would have Dagur’s scent ingrained in him, and of course he would want something else. She’d never thought much of people’s scent. It was comforting when she smelled a friend, a parent, a lover, but it was something so simple, a comfort she took for granted. Hiccup hadn’t had that comfort in a very long time. Astrid almost sniffed him too, but she was afraid to, afraid that if she did she’d catch a scent that she wasn’t familiar with, that wasn’t his own. It would make sense that his scent had been overridden, given that Skullcrusher hadn’t been able to find him.

 _Or maybe he was just too far away_ , Astrid reasoned. Hesitantly, she pressed her nose into Hiccup’s hair, and inhaled. The smell was an odd one, unique, and it took a while for her to realize that Hiccup’s scent was still in there somewhere, just intertwined so strongly with something else - Dagur - that it was difficult to distinguish between the two. She drew her nose away almost violently. She didn’t like the smell. She wanted it to just be Hiccup’s.

_It will be again. Just give it time._

Hiccup abruptly yanked himself out of her arms, shuffled back and away from her. Startled, Astrid was going to ask if she had done anything wrong, but Hiccup spoke first. 

“I should go to sleep.” He grabbed at the rock, began pulling himself up to stand. There was a repressed panic to his movements.

“Hiccup, are you okay?” Astrid stood. She offered Hiccup her hand, but he didn’t take it. He struggled for a few moments before standing with a groan. He turned his head away from her, rubbing at his hips.

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

“You sure?” She didn’t understand what had happened. Hiccup had actually seemed fine with being touched, had seemed comfortable in her arms, but then he’d pulled away as if she’d hurt him. Then there was the matter of how standing had been painful, how he was rubbing his hips and hissing breaths through his teeth. He was hurt and wasn’t telling anyone about it.

“Yeah.”

Astrid wanted to keep pressing him on it, but she decided it would do no good for him. Besides, they would be back at Dragon’s Edge soon and Gothi would look him over and take care of any injuries.

“Okay, so, we have an extra bedroll and blankets.” Astrid wished she could tell him that they had clothes too. She couldn’t believe they hadn’t brought him clothes, that they’d forgotten something so important. Or maybe they’d just been hoping that he’d have clothes, that Dagur would have the decency to give him more than what he was wearing right now. It had been a stupid hope, she realized. Dagur had no decency.

“Th-that works.” Hiccup scratched at the back of his head. “I’m gonna just… sleep away from the rest of you guys.”

“Hiccup, you don’t have to.” Was he isolating himself because he felt like he didn’t belong anymore? Did he feel like he wasn’t being welcomed back? “We won’t mind if you-”

“No, I… It’s nothing to do with you guys. I- It’s easier.”

Ceding her point, Astrid nodded. “Okay.”

Quiet fell. It was awkward, tense. Astrid wanted to hug him, but she didn’t. It seemed physical interaction was only okay if Hiccup initiated it, and even then not for very long. She wanted to say something, tell him that she loved him, but based on his reaction earlier she didn’t think it was a good idea.

In the end, she didn’t say anything important, just: “Let me get that bedroll for you.”

 

Hiccup had thought he’d feel better away from the Dragon Riders, but instead he just felt alone, so terribly alone. He felt alone when he was with them, separated. They were all together, in the same place, but somehow it felt like they weren’t, like he wasn’t truly there with them. It had an uneasy feeling of surreality, but what was somehow worse was that it was real. The separation was real, and it was there because he wasn’t the same and they all knew it.

He was tired, but he was having a few problems. He found himself longing to be held, to be wrapped in someone’s arms, to have a body against him. He’d gotten so used to falling asleep in Dagur’s arms, with his face pressed against him and his breath moving over him. He’d gotten used to _feeling_ each of those breaths, of hearing them. He’d gotten used to having skin against his own as he drifted into sleep, and now without someone with him, without _him_ , he felt like sleep was being held away from him by a cruel hand, and he hated it. He hated how he’d gotten used to such a thing, hated how he felt like he needed it to sleep. He shouldn’t have needed his captor’s arms around him to sleep, yet here he was.

The other problem was far worse, and it just drove himself further into self hate. He wanted sex, _craved_ it. His cock was erect and wanting, a result of Astrid’s touch. That was why he’d pulled away from her so fast. He hoped she hadn’t felt hurt by it, but he couldn’t have possibly just stayed in her arms with what was happening, with what his body was doing against his wishes.

There was no way in Hel, Valhalla, or Niflheim that he was going to take care of that. He didn’t want touch, didn’t want pleasure. All he associated with it was Dagur. He didn’t want to think of him, especially not while doing _that_ , but he doubted he would think of anyone else. 

Hiccup almost whined out of pure frustration. It was unbearable, this need without gratification, and gratification wouldn’t be coming. He couldn’t possibly allow himself to do it. There was nothing right about him wanting sex after being rescued from his rapist. Even though it was Dagur that had turned him into this, it wasn’t right. He shouldn’t have been laying there, craving his touch, craving anyone’s touch. He shouldn’t have been wanting it so badly, but he was just so accustomed to it.

Hiccup briefly questioned how he was going to live, but shoved the thought away. It was utterly ridiculous. Sex wasn’t something anyone needed to live. It wasn’t truly a need. It was a want. He could get by without it.

But after months of having it forced upon him multiple times a day, of _receiving_ it, _partaking_ in it, he felt like he couldn’t. He felt like he was suffering without it, and all this made him want to cry again, but he had no tears left, had no energy for it. 

Hiccup tried to think of something else, and eventually his mind left what he was feeling and wanting physically, but they weren’t pleasant thoughts. He thought of how he was afraid to go home. He thought of how he was afraid of seeing his father in this wretched state, to have to look him in the eye knowing he could no longer be his heir. He was afraid of him seeing the glaring evidence of what had been done to him. He was just straight up terrified of all of it, and the situation was made all the worse with the brand on his chest. He couldn't hide it forever. He wanted to, but he knew, reasonably, there was no way to. His father would know eventually.

He suddenly felt like he was being pulled underwater, yanked down towards some dark, horrible pit that he'd never resurface from. He was being pulled down by each of his friends, by Gobber, by his dad, even Toothless. And above him was Dagur, reaching out for him. If he took his hand he could save himself from that dark void, but that would only lead to another one. He had no choice but to reject his hand and let himself be drowned.


	78. Chapter 77

“Do you think he’s asleep?” Snotlout asked, glancing over his shoulder at where Hiccup lay, huddled under blankets and beside his own campfire. His question was directed at Fishlegs and Tuffnut. The rest of the Riders had gone to sleep.

“Why does it matter if he his?” Fishlegs’ words were accompanied with his brows raising in suspicion. 

“He wouldn’t let you cut that… collar off when he was awake, right?” Snotlout questioned, drawing his knife. He didn’t like seeing that thing on Hiccup, and if he couldn’t handle it being cut off while he was awake, then it was best to do it while he was sleeping. He doubted Hiccup still wanted it on him.

“No, he wouldn’t, but I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Fishlegs said.

“Yeah, me neither,” Tuffnut agreed.

Snotlout looked between the both of them. “Why not?”

“I don’t know. Just doesn’t seem right to do something without him being awake,” Tuffnut answered.

Snotlout stood, ignoring them. “Yeah, but it’s not anything bad,” he reasoned. He went quietly over to where Hiccup was hopefully sleeping. “Hiccup, you awake?”

He waited, but was given no answer. Hiccup didn’t even move. So he was asleep. Snotlout went the rest of the way over to him, crouched down. He was laying on his stomach, so Snotlout had to lift up his hair to get access to the collar. In the light of the fire, he could see that the bruises did go all the way around his neck like he’d suspected. 

He grabbed at the collar and began cutting it, quickly, feeling like he was touching something disgusting rather than a piece of leather. He couldn’t believe Dagur had put this on him like he was some kind of animal. He wondered how long it had been there, if Dagur had put it on right at the beginning of his captivity or if it was more recent.

Finally, it was completely cut through, and Snotlout slipped it off of him. Hiccup made a small noise in his sleep, shifted a little, and Snotlout held his breath, fearing that he was going to wake up and find him over him with a knife. That wouldn’t be a good thing for him to wake to. Though, Hiccup didn’t move again, didn’t wake, and Snotlout stood and released his breath. He made his way back over to the main campfire, holding the collar between two fingers. He felt dirty for touching it, and as soon as he was close he tossed it into the fire.

“There.” He sheathed his knife, wiping his other hand vigorously on his vest, trying to get rid of the feeling of touching that thing. He watched as it burned, feeling satisfied. “It’s off now. He’ll be better for it.”

“Yeah, if he’s not freaked out by the fact that someone did it in his sleep,” Fishlegs said disapprovingly. 

“What? I thought you wanted it off him too,” Snotlout shot back defensively.

“I did. I mean, I’m glad it’s off, but…” Fishlegs shook his head. “Never mind. What’s done is done. We’ll see how he is in the morning.”

That was the end of it, so the three of them quietly got ready to go to sleep. Later, when Snotlout was laying near Tuffnut, he whispered to him: “How do you think he got those bruises? They go all the way around.”

“No idea,” Tuffnut responded quietly. “We can ask him, I guess.”

Snotlout looked back over his shoulder at Hiccup, just a shape outlined by firelight. It was strange knowing that that was Hiccup, that he was actually with them. So far, it hadn’t truly felt like it. It seemed that the Hiccup they’d all been missing, the one they’d lost three months ago, was gone for good.

 

Hiccup woke with his face against Dagur’s chest, their arms around each other and their legs entangled. Dagur was already awake, stroking his hair, and Hiccup lifted his head to find him staring and smiling at him.

“Was wondering when you were gonna wake up.”

“I had this dream,” Hiccup told him.

“Bad dream or good dream?”

“I don’t… I don’t really know.” Hiccup rested his head back against his chest. “The Dragon Riders found me. They wanted me to go with them.”

“Did you?”

“Eventually. They kind of had to drag me.”

Dagur released him with one arm, placed his hand on his chest, over his brand. “Just know that you’re mine. Even if you get taken from me, you’re still mine. You’ll always be mine.”

“I know.” He said it dismally. He didn’t want it to be the case, but it was. “What if my dad sees it?”

“He doesn’t have to. You can hide it.”

“Not forever.”

Dagur sighed, ran his fingers along the brand. “You’re right.” Hiccup waited for him to say something else, but that was it.

“I’m scared, Dagur.”

“But, Hiccup, it was just a dream. You’re still with me.” 

“Yeah, you’re right. It was just a dream.”

Dagur took him by the chin and lifted his head, brought his lips to his. Hiccup was going to kiss back, but then was met with air. He was gone. Dagur was gone.

“Dagur?” Confused, Hiccup sat up, looked around. He didn’t recognize his surroundings, and Dagur wasn’t with him. He began to panic, reaching out with his hands, trying to find him. “Dagur! Dagur, where are you?!” No answer. “ _Dagur!_ ”

A female voice called his name, and the speaker came into the dim light. Hiccup looked up at her, startled, frightened and confused.

“A-Astrid? What are you-? Where’s Dagur?” He shook his head. “Dreaming. I must be dreaming.”

Astrid sat in front of him. “No, Hiccup, you’re not dreaming. This is real.” She reached for his hand, but he pulled it away.

“Real? But, Dagur. He was just…” Hiccup looked around again, the words dying on his lips. He was outside, by a campfire. A short distance from him there was another fire, the Dragon Riders sleeping by it, their dragons close by. Then it came back to him. He’d been rescued. 

“You were dreaming, Hiccup.”

“Dreaming,” he repeated. He hadn’t dreamt in a long time. It hadn’t felt like he was dreaming. It had felt real, and now this felt real too. “No, but… this must be the dream. I was with Dagur. That… This isn’t real. That was.” 

“No, Hiccup, this is real,” Astrid insisted. “We rescued you. You’re not with him anymore.” She held out her hand to him. “See? Take my hand. Do I feel real?”

Hiccup took her hand, gave it a small squeeze. He looked at it, terribly confused. 

“But he felt real too,” he whispered. He drew his hand from Astrid’s, touched his lips. It was almost like he could still feel the kiss. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it. _This_ was real, where he was right now. Being with Dagur had been a dream. It was behind him, while uncertainty lay ahead. He suddenly wished that that hadn’t been a dream, wished that it had been real and that the rescue had been a dream. With Dagur, he knew what he was going to get, knew what he was going to feel, but now, he had no idea, and he was scared.

He now knew this was reality, but something still didn’t feel right. His collar… He lowered his hand to touch his neck. It wasn’t there. The feeling was foreign to him. He’d been so used to having it on, having it against his skin, and now it was gone. His breath hitched. That meant someone had come near him in his sleep, had come near him with a knife. He hurriedly ran his hands over himself, to check that he was all still there, to make sure there was no blood.

“Hiccup, what is it?”

“Someone cut off my…” He didn’t say the word, just tapped at his neck.

Astrid looked confused. “I thought you wanted it off.”

“Not while I was sleeping!” Hiccup shivered, both from the cold and the feeling of violation. He knew, sensibly, that the collar being cut off was all that had happened while he was sleeping, but an illogical, fearful part of him worried that more had happened, that he’d been violated in some other way.

 _No, you’re okay, you’re okay._

His thoughts didn’t stop the fact that he was beginning to breathe too quickly and shake, that his chest was hurting, that emotions were roiling around him so quickly and violently he didn’t know what they were. He tried to breathe deeply, to stop this, but he couldn’t. It almost felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“Hiccup? Hiccup, what’s going on?” There was concern in Astrid’s voice, maybe even a bit of fear.

“I-I-I don’t- I can’t-” He didn’t understand. Why couldn’t he just breathe normally?! He was safe. No one had hurt him in his sleep. They’d done him a service by taking off the collar.

_You’re not hurt. You’re okay. Just breathe, dammit!_

Hiccup wanted to. He really did, but instead he was left gasping for air and feeling like he was going to faint. He felt himself moving, and then the ground was underneath him. He was laying down.

“Hiccup, come on, talk to me! What’s going on?” Astrid took one of his hands and he didn’t listen to the part of himself that wanted to pull away. He instead gripped it tight, trying to find comfort in the contact.

“I-I don’t- P-panicking. F-feels l-like I’m panicking,” Hiccup managed to get out. That’s what it was. He felt like he was panicking and like he couldn’t stop. But why? He was fine.

“Hiccup, take a deep breath.”

“T-trying.” 

“Um… Think of something!”

“O-o-of what?”

“Toothless! Think of Toothless! You’ll see him soon. Think of that!”

Hiccup closed his eyes, conjured an image of Toothless. He tried to imagine what it would feel like to touch him again, to press his head against his and hold him. Soon. He’d be able to do that again. He hadn’t seen him in so long. He wanted to so badly, so desperately. He wished he was there with him right now, helping him through this.

_I’ll see him soon. Soon. Really soon._

And then Hiccup would fly with him again, would be up in the air. He missed flying. It seemed surreal that it would happen again. He’d thought that it never would, had thought he’d never see Toothless again. But soon. It would happen soon.

His breaths began to come back under his control, and he was able to take deep breaths. They shook on their way in and out of his lungs. He only now noticed how hard he was holding onto Astrid and loosened his grip on her, but kept his hand in hers. The touch was innocent, comforting. It reminded him of Bryn, and the ache in his chest became almost unbearable, and guilt suddenly stabbed him so hard in the stomach that he wanted to roll onto his side and double over with it. He held in an agonized groan, just continued trying to get his breathing under control. 

Only now did he realize that Astrid was talking to him, telling him that he was okay, that he was safe. He hoped to the gods she wouldn’t use the word free. He didn’t know if he’d be able to live if she did. The dream came back to him, Dagur telling him that he was his, that he’d always be his no matter what happened. Hiccup wanted to cry, but he couldn’t make anymore tears. There were none left in him, so instead he suffered in silence. It was true. He was still Dagur’s. His brand almost seemed to burn.

Eventually, his thoughts began to slow and come back to the moment. He was with Astrid and his friends, safe and away from Dagur, on his way home where he’d see Toothless again. He almost started thinking about his dad, but he shoved it all away and thought only of Toothless. He knew that, had Toothless not been waiting for him, he wouldn’t have had the strength to go back.

Hiccup released Astrid’s hand, let it fall to the ground. He felt wiped out from this ordeal, whatever it had been.

“Hiccup, are you doing better?”

“Yeah,” he responded hoarsely, opening his eyes. “Yeah, I am. Thank you.”

“What was that?”

“I have no idea.” He looked around again. It was dark, and it would still be dark for about a week. There was no way of telling what time it was. “It’s not time to go or anything, is it?” It looked like the rest of the Riders were still sleeping.

“No,” Astrid replied. “I think it’s the middle of the night.”

“Oh, good.” Hiccup yawned. “’Cause I feel like I can go back to sleep.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” _For now._ He tried forcing a smile, but he knew that it looked like a grimace. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“Hel, I’m surprised you didn’t wake anyone else. I’m gonna try to get some more sleep, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Just shout if you need anything.” Astrid lingered for a moment before standing and walking away. Hiccup knew why she had. Before any of this, them parting ways usually ended with a kiss of some sort or a hug, but Hiccup couldn’t do any of that right now. As he pulled the blankets back over himself, the guilt resurfaced. The last lips he’d kissed were Dagur’s. He was tainted. Astrid wouldn’t want to kiss him anyway.

He rolled onto his stomach, the movement hurting his hips, and closed his eyes. He hoped that he wouldn’t dream again.

 

“Hiccup,” a gentle male voice called.

“Ugh, what?” he moaned, rolling onto his side, hopefully away from the source of the voice. “Let me sleep, Dagur.”

“Hiccup, it’s Snotlout.”

“Huh?” He didn’t open his eyes, still too tired to comprehend what was going on. Why was Snotlout here too?

“Yep, no Dagur. Just good old Snotlout. Now get up. We have to get going soon if we want to make it to Dragon’s Edge tomorrow.”

Everything flooded back into Hiccup’s memory, jarring him awake. His eyes flew open and he studied his surroundings for a bit before sitting up. He looked to Snotlout.

“See?” Snotlout spread his hands. “Tada, Snotlout! Now get up so we can get going.” His eyes flitted down for a moment and he leaned in close, lowering his voice. “Hiccup, your robe.”

“Oh shit!” He pulled his robe tight around him, looking around in a panic to make sure that nobody else could have seen. The rest of the Dragon Riders all appeared to be busy packing up camp or eating.

“Thanks, Snotlout,” he said in relief. “Man, I can’t wait to have real clothes again.” It was an interesting thing to say, to know that he’d have real clothes again.

Looking a little awkward, Snotlout rubbed at the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah… Sorry we didn’t think to bring you any. Just, when we found out where you were we were too excited to go and get you and too busy planning it out and everything.”

Hiccup would have said it was okay, but to him it really wasn’t. He was practically naked, and it was much too easy to make him that way, to make him vulnerable. If anyone wanted they could- But no. They were his friends. They wouldn’t do that to him, wouldn’t cross his boundaries. It was odd. He was so used to his boundaries being ignored and then utterly crushed to bits, not adhered to.

“I get it,” he told him instead. He squinted at Snotlout a little, rubbed at his now bare neck. “Was it you that-?”

“I’m sorry, I had to!” Snotlout cut him off. “I couldn’t stand seeing that thing on you and I figured it would be easiest to get it off of you while you were sleeping. I know that sounds bad, but… Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“It’s… It’s okay.” Hiccup lowered his hand from his neck. “It’s good to not have it.” He still felt conflicted over the fact that Snotlout had done it while he was sleeping, but: “Thank you.” He made to stand, but he couldn’t, his hips aching too much. He winced, gritted his teeth.

“Do you need help standing?”

Hiccup didn’t want to admit to it, almost shook his head, but he knew that that would be stupid. He did need help. Besides, Snotlout had seen him, had seen everything. He knew about the state his hips were in.

“Yeah.” Reluctantly, he held out his arms and Snotlout took him by them, began to pull him up. His hips screamed at the action and he wanted to tell Snotlout to just let go and leave him there, but instead he pushed through the pain till he was standing. He was left panting, waiting for the pain to go back to its normal, irritating ache.

“Okay, come on. Let’s eat. I’m sure you got sick of Dagur starving you.” They began making their way back to the main campfire.

“Um… That wasn’t… That wasn’t Dagur.” Hiccup didn’t know why he was telling him this. He didn’t really have a reason to. He could keep it at him thinking it was Dagur who had made him so thin, but for some reason he wanted to admit that it was him.

Snotlout furrowed his brows at him. “What do you mean it wasn’t Dagur?”

“It was me,” Hiccup told him. “I just…” He shrugged, “Lost my appetite. He was feeding me, but I wasn’t eating.”

“Hiccup, you…” Snotlout trailed off, frowned, clearly not sure what to say. “Eat now, okay?”

“Don’t worry. I was planning on it.”

Like dinner, breakfast didn’t have much talking. It was uncomfortable. Also like dinner, it was obvious that the Riders were trying not to stare at him.

Though eventually, someone broke the silence: Tuffnut.

“Hiccup, can I ask a question?”

“Uh…” He wanted to tell him no, but then he remembered that no had little meaning as a spoken word, that it was utterly unimportant. “Sure.”

“How’d you get those bruises on your neck?”

He absentmindedly rubbed at his neck. He wished that the bruises were gone, that they weren’t seeing them.

“I…” Could he tell them? How would they take it? “I, um…”

“Hiccup, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” That was Heather.

“But I do want to.” At least part of him did. “Give me a minute.”

Was there any way to say it without making it sound so horrible? Was there a way to deliver it to them lightly? Then Hiccup decided that no, there wasn’t. There was just the truth, and the truth was terrible. He didn’t look at any of them when he said it.

“I tried killing myself.”

Silence. He hadn’t expected anything but, but it still made him uncomfortable. He shifted; then he did look around at all of them, trying to gauge what they were feeling. They just looked… sad. There was no judgment, no anger. They seemed to understand.

“Why didn’t it work?” Ruffnut, her voice quiet.

“It would have, I think, but Dagur walked in. He… saved me.” At the time, Hiccup had hated him for it, but now he didn’t know what he felt about the whole situation. He didn’t really know what he felt in general. It was all just too much.

More silence followed. Hiccup knew that there weren’t really words for this, but he wished someone would say something, just to break it, just to make it go away.

“I get it, Hiccup,” Fishlegs told him. “I’m glad you’re still here, but I get why you did it.”

There was agreement from the other Riders, and Hiccup felt a swell of emotion that might have been gratitude. He really wasn’t sure. 

“Yeah, I’m glad too.” He couldn’t make it sound real or happy though. He didn’t know if he was glad to be there or not. He just didn’t know.

 

Hiccup decided to ride with Fishlegs again. Currently, he felt the most comfortable with him for some reason - not that he felt very comfortable with anyone in general, but his discomfort with Fishlegs wasn’t as great as with the others. He fell asleep after about an hour in the air. While drifting off, he thought of how it was kind of funny that they were all so comfortable around dragons that they could fall asleep while riding one, even him after not being on one in so long. His last thought was that he hoped he’d dream of Toothless.

 

_He was lying beside Dagur and the man was stroking his face, talking calmly and happily about his dreams for the future. Hiccup didn’t pay any attention to what he was saying. But then Viggo was there, on the other side of him. He was sandwiched between the two men, both of them caressing and stroking his body and talking softly to him. He was surprisingly at ease._

_“Hiccup, my dear, do you have that apology for me yet?” Viggo’s hand was tracing over his spine._

_“What is it that I did?”_

_There was no response, and suddenly a sting in his neck. He yelped in surprise, was going to ask what that had been about, but he suddenly couldn’t speak. He was on fire._

_He shrieked at the pain, writhed, but that just made his body move against theirs. He somehow realized through the anguish that they were both taking him. One of them had lifted his leg high to give them both access, and the other was crushing their arms around him. Hiccup couldn’t fathom why they were doing this to him while he was burning. He screamed and sobbed into Dagur’s ear, began begging for him to make it stop. He had been the one that had saved him from this before. He could do it again._

_“Dagur can’t make it stop,” Viggo grunted into his ear. “But I’ll stop if you tell me what I want to hear.”_

_Hiccup didn’t know what he wanted to hear. An apology? Plans for taking the Edge? It didn’t matter. He couldn’t seem to form words save for the ones telling them to stop, please just stop._

_“It’s okay, baby,” Dagur breathed into his ear. “It’s all okay.”_

_“But I’m_ burning! _” Hiccup shouted. He thrashed against them, trying to get free. Why couldn’t they wait till after? Take his body when he wasn’t burning like this? Why did they have to do it at all? It_ hurt. _He_ hated _it._

_“Sh, baby. It’s okay. It’s okay.”_

 

Hiccup was shoved violently back into the waking world, shouting. He lurched forward, grabbed tightly onto whatever he could. An arm went around him and if his heart hadn’t already been in his throat it would have moved there.

“No! No, don’t touch me! Stop it! Stop!”

“Hiccup, calm down.”

“ _No-o-o!_ Let me go! Let me _go!_ ”

“Hiccup, it’s Fishlegs! Calm down! You’re alright!”

Hiccup sucked in a huge breath, was going to use it to scream again, but stopped. Fishlegs? He was with Fishlegs?

Then the real world caught up to him, and he opened his eyes and looked around. He was on Meatlug, in the air, surrounded by the rest of the Dragon Riders. They were hovering for the moment, having stopped because of his screams.

“Hiccup, it’s alright. It was just a dream.”

“Y-yeah.” Hiccup nodded, swallowed hard. “Just a dream.” He clutched tighter to Meatlug’s saddle, trying to quell the shaking that had started in his hands and was now moving to the rest of him. “B-bad dream. Keep… keep going.” He wanted to tell them he was okay, but he doubted he could make it sound truthful. He didn’t feel like he was okay. He felt like he was going to be sick.

Hiccup took deep breaths as they continued on. He was disturbed by the return of his dreams. They’d stopped a long while ago, and he hadn’t imagined them ever coming back. If he’d still been with Dagur they wouldn’t be happening. That’s why they had stopped in the first place, because he’d only wake from a nightmare to be “comforted” by the subject of it. Now the subject of his nightmares wasn’t here, and they were free to return and torment him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Fishlegs asked gently.

Hiccup shook his head. The dream certainly wasn’t anything he wanted to share. He shuddered at the memory of it, and then at what it recalled, the memory of the Triple Stryke venom raging through his blood. That was a pain he’d hoped to never feel again, yet his mind had conjured it up for him. Having felt it again in his mind, he wondered how he’d even lived through it.

“T-talk about pl-plants or something.”

And Fishlegs did, not asking anymore questions. Hiccup was thankful for it. Eventually he was able to stop shaking, able to loosen his hold on Meatlug’s saddle. He was safe. He just had to keep telling himself that. He was safe.

 

They stopped once in what they figured must have been the middle of the day to have lunch, and then kept on flying. They didn’t stop and set up camp till hours later, when they were all hungry and exhausted. Like the night before, Hiccup built a fire away from the rest of them. He went to sleep early, leaving the rest of them around the campfire.

Astrid was just staring into it, thinking. Her mind had been on the same thing practically the whole day. Hiccup had tried killing himself. He’d actually tried killing himself. He was still here, still alive and with them, but he almost hadn’t been, and, oddly enough, they had Dagur to thank for that. Despite everything he’d done, she felt herself feeling a strange gratefulness towards him. He’d saved Hiccup’s life.

Then Hiccup started screaming.

The Dragon Riders all jolted up out of their relaxed positions, Astrid bounding to her feet. The dragons all squawked in alarm.

Of course, Astrid’s first thought was that they had been followed and were under attack, but when she ran up to where Hiccup had decided to sleep, he was the only one there, and still unconscious from what she could tell. He was all twisted up in the blankets, grimacing with his teeth clenched.

“Um, do you think we should wake him up?” Snotlout asked. Everyone else had rushed to Hiccup just as she had.

Hiccup kicked out with his right foot, loose chain rattling. “No, no, please,” he whimpered. Not long after, he let loose another horrible shriek.

“I’m thinking it might make it worse,” Heather answered. “We don’t know what he’s dreaming about and shaking him out of it could make him panic. We all saw how he’s afraid of being touched.”

“Oh, but I don’t like seeing him like this,” Fishlegs said despairingly. “Isn’t there something we can do?”

Astrid looked around at each of them and then back down at Hiccup, who was whimpering and pleading in his sleep. 

“I don’t think so,” she responded hopelessly. From the conversation that she’d had with Hiccup the day before, it was clear that _he_ didn’t even know how to help himself. “Maybe we should just let him sleep.”

Hiccup thrashed and suddenly shouted, and each one of the Dragon Riders flinched. “No, no! Stop it! _Sto-o-op!_ ”

Tuffnut pointed a finger, eyes big. “That doesn’t really seem like sleeping to me.”

“Okay, that’s it! I’m waking him up!” Ruffnut declared. She positioned herself above him, but Fishlegs and Tuffnut yanked her back before she could do anything.

“Ruff, wait! We don’t want to make it worse!” Fishlegs cried.

“Then what do _you_ suggest we do?!” Ruffnut threw out her arms. “All this yelling doesn’t seem to be waking him up either!”

Hiccup screamed again, longer and louder than his other ones. 

“Maybe we should try talking to him,” Heather suggested. “Sometimes the waking world melds with dreams. He might hear us if we address him.”

“That’s the stupidest-” Snotlout began before cutting himself off. “You know, never mind. That actually makes sense.”

“But nobody touch him,” Astrid warned, already kneeling on the ground next to him.

She felt hopeless without being able to provide physical comfort, but she supposed her voice would just have to do.

“Hey, Hiccup,” she started softly. “Wherever you are right now, it’s not real. You’re here with us, all of us.”

He shook his head violently, almost as if in response. A tortured moan left his lips.

“Yeah, you’re here with all your friends,” Fishlegs chimed in, though his words were drowned out by another scream.

“Come on, Hiccup, snap out of it,” Snotlout urged. “Dream of happy things!”

“Snotlout, I don’t think ordering him to have good dreams will do anything,” Heather hissed at him.

“What? You want me to get all sappy like the rest of you?” he asked defensively.

“Guys, be quiet.” Astrid was beginning to get frustrated with the situation. She just wanted to shake Hiccup awake and hug him, but she couldn’t. She’d end up getting kicked or punched, and he’d go into a panic, forget where he was.

There was a moment that was silent save for Hiccup’s moans and cries. Then Tuffnut spoke up.

“Yeah, Hiccup. It’s us!” He somehow made it sound cheerful. “All your friends. We’re here with you, man.”

“And we’re not leaving you,” Ruffnut said.

“You’re not with him, Hiccup.” That was Heather. “He’s far away. You’re safe.”

They kept on talking to him, mostly just reiterating that what he was experiencing at the moment wasn’t real and that they were there with him, that he was safe. After some time of this, he actually began to calm down. Then finally, he was relaxed and silent.

“Finally,” Astrid sighed. “At least now we know what works.” They all knew that this was certainly not the only nightmare he’d be having. She stood and wiped off the dirt from her legs. “Come on.” She gestured back towards the campfire. “Don’t want to disturb him.”

“Well that sucked!” Snotlout announced as he slumped down against Hookfang, who huffed at him in annoyance. He crossed his arms, looking at a patch of dirt on the ground as if it had offended him. “This whole _thing_ sucks.”

“No kidding.” Tuffnut didn’t even bother with sitting. He flopped down on his stomach in front of Snotlout, looking worn out. Snotlout casually rested his feet on his back. “Poor Hiccup.”

_That’s the understatement of the hour._

“How are we even supposed to help him?” Heather asked from where she sat next to Astrid. She sounded on the verge of tears. “Astrid, y-you talked to him. Was there anything…?”

Astrid tightened her lips and shook her head. “He doesn’t know either.”

“Oh Thor.” Fishlegs clutched at his helmet in distress. 

They were quiet for a bit, but it was broken by Ruffnut.

“He’s a fucking mess.”

“Ruffnut!” Astrid exclaimed.

The other girl shrugged, frowning. “What? It’s true. Dagur br-”

“Don’t you dare say it!” Astrid snapped, jumping to her feet. She knew what had been about to come out of her mouth, knew that it was most likely true, but she didn’t want to hear it. Saying it only made it real.

Ruffnut clamped her mouth shut, looking startled. Astrid sank to the ground in defeat and buried her head in her hands. Heather placed a hand on her shoulder.

“H-he’s not broken,” she stammered. For once she didn’t care that she was showing emotion and vulnerability in front of everyone else, especially since they were all experiencing this together. “H-he can’t be.” A sob wracked her body. “He’s Hiccup. He can’t…” Her throat ached too much for her to continue. And just like that, all the emotions she’d been holding back for the past few days swept over her and she broke down crying. No one else said anything, and Heather just rubbed her back. Hel, the others could be crying too for all she knew.

She wanted Hiccup back so desperately that there was a pain in her chest. Yes, they’d rescued him, but it wasn’t _him_. It wasn’t the same Hiccup that she’d known before.

Not for the first time, she wished that the past few months of her life hadn’t been real, that what was happening now wasn’t real, that it had all been some horrible dream.

But it wasn’t. There would be no waking up from this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stoick will be in the next chapter!


	79. Chapter 78

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's ready for that pain™? And if anyone's wondering, this came out so fast because I had a lot of this already written.

Hiccup dreamt a lot that night. He didn’t remember much of the first one, only that somehow his friends voices had ended up in it, and with their voices it had dissolved into nothing. Then there had been another dream, the one he was now waking up from, and in the wake of it he was left wanting… wanting Dagur. 

He muffled a whine against his arm, trying to keep himself from just rutting against the bedroll. He wanted it bad, didn’t know how he’d gotten through all day yesterday without it. He felt like he was being driven mad by his body’s appetite for it. He just wanted hands and lips to touch him, and that’s what had happened in his dream. He’d been with Dagur again, underneath him, with him inside him and touching him and pleasuring him in all the ways that he needed. Now he was left awake without it, and he wanted to scream in pure frustration.

Hiccup clenched his hands into fists, rolled onto his back. He tried taking deep breaths, tried thinking of something else, but his mind would always come back to sex, how much he wanted it, how much he _needed_ it. He felt like he needed it this instant or he was going to die. He knew it was stupid, knew that wasn’t the case, but he just couldn’t help it. He hated it, wanted to fight it. He didn’t want to be like this, a victim to his own body, unable to control himself.

No one else was awake yet, so Hiccup kept his eyes closed, hoping that maybe he could just go back to sleep. He couldn’t. All he could do was imagine hands running up and down his body, a mouth pressing against his neck…

He abruptly sat up, coming to a decision. There was no way this was going away on its own. He would just have to take care of it.

Standing was a struggle, the movement making pain flare in his hips. Once he was up, he limped his way over to a nearby tree, going to stand behind it. He pressed his back to it, and then, without letting himself think too much about what he was doing, he stuck his hand in his robe.

Hiccup’s voice came out of him in a moan, and he instantly clamped his other hand over his mouth. He hoped it hadn’t been too loud, hoped no one had heard him. He didn’t want anyone knowing about this despicable thing he was doing. He hadn’t found it despicable before, but after what had been done to him it was. He shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be wanting this.

Those thoughts didn’t stop him from doing it though, didn’t stop him from pumping his length and imagining that that hand was Dagur’s. He didn’t want to think about Dagur, but that was all his mind was giving him. Part of him wanted it to be Dagur doing this to him. Part of him wanted Dagur to be there to take his robe from him and run his hands over his naked body, kiss and bite at him in all the right places. 

His imagination ran wild from his grasp with no chance of being reined in. Dagur would press him against the tree, would run his mouth over him and bite at him like he was holding himself back from eating him. He would pull his hand from his mouth to hear him gasp and moan, pin his arms above him to trap him. He would stroke him roughly, almost painfully, would watch him buck and writhe under his hand.

Hiccup made a noise into his hand that might have been a sob. He felt tears building in his eyes for some reason. He pulled his hand away from his mouth, instead grabbed at the tree to have something to brace himself against the pleasure. He gritted his teeth against another sound, dug his nails into the bark.

“I hate you,” he breathed. He knew Dagur wasn’t there, but he had to say it anyway, had to say it to the version of him that lived in his mind. “I hate you f-for turning me into this.” He wished he was saying it to Dagur’s face, but if he was with Dagur he wouldn’t be feeling this. He wouldn’t be hating himself so much. With Dagur he’d been allowed to indulge in his wants, his addiction. It’d been used, encouraged. _He’d_ been used.

Hiccup had to try hard not to yell when he came. It just felt so good, so fulfilling, but he hated it so much. When it was over he sagged against the tree, breathing hard, tears streaking his cheeks.

“I hate you,” he said again. “I hate you, I hate you.” He didn’t know if he was saying it to Dagur or himself. Either would do. He hated himself and Dagur equally. He knew both were deserving of hatred.

Hiccup nearly had the urge to overstimulate himself, to cause himself pain because he deserved it. He deserved to hurt for doing this, for giving in. He was terrible and he deserved pain.

He didn’t do it though. He just pulled his hand away, sank to sit against the tree, knees bent. He pressed his hand to his face, sobbing quietly. He was a mess of feelings for having done this. Part of him felt like he could breathe easier, felt like he could actually live a few more hours before he would need it again, but now because of it he didn’t _want_ to live, didn’t want to be around for the next time he would need this.

He knew he would have to live though, knew that he had no choice. He couldn’t kill himself. That would utterly destroy his friends, to lose him so soon after getting him back. It wouldn’t be fair to them. Though, he didn’t feel like living was very fair to him. Nothing felt fair to him.

Eventually, Hiccup was able to pick himself up and make his way back over to the camp, ready to pretend that nothing had happened, that he hadn’t been crying, ready to pretend that he hadn’t lost to himself and his body… ready to pretend that he didn’t hate himself more than anything or anyone else.

 

Hiccup pretended to doze most of the way to Dragon’s Edge to avoid conversation. Though, at some point he did fall asleep for real. He hadn’t realized just how exhausted he was from everything. Now, however, he was wide awake, nerves eating a hole through his stomach before going to chew on the rest of him. They were close enough to see the island now, a glowing dot that had appeared on the horizon and was now growing. They’d be there soon.

The other Riders were explaining to him that a lot of things had changed while he’d been gone. New buildings had been erected on the island to accommodate the A Team and half of the Berk fleet. There were also a lot of new defenses in place, defenses that had taken heavy damage from Viggo’s siege. He wasn’t happy hearing about that, hearing about the damage the he had caused by telling Viggo his plan. He almost wanted to ask them what the death toll had been, but he didn’t. He knew it’d be even harder to live with himself if he did.

Another thing Hiccup wasn’t happy about was just how many people there were. His return would have been hard enough had it just been his dad, the auxiliary riders, and Gobber, but now there were huge numbers; there would be rumors and gossip flying around within the hour of his arrival. There was no way to make his return private. His capture wouldn’t have been trivial to the members of his tribe.

He was terrified. He was clutching tight to Meatlug’s saddle, nails digging into the leather. He wanted everything to just stop. He felt like he was rushing towards a rock wall. There was no going around or above it, but no way through either. He was going to hit it head on and be smashed to bits.

“Wait! Stop!” he called out, hoping Fishlegs and the other Riders would listen to him. They did, pulling up their dragons to hover close to each other.

“Hiccup, what is it?” Astrid asked.

“I can’t,” he responded, shaking his head. “I can’t do it. I can’t.”

“What? Go home?” Snotlout questioned. “I thought that was the point.”

“No, no, I can’t.” He was on the verge of panic. They were almost there. He was about to see his dad again after three months, three months of being taken and ruined and made into nothing. He felt like his brand was burning, and he put his hand to his chest, touching it over his robe.

“It’s okay, Hiccup,” Fishlegs said from behind him. 

“Yeah,” Astrid agreed. “Everyone will be happy to see you.”

“But I don’t _want_ anyone to see me!” He’d suddenly raised his voice to a shout. He couldn’t bring himself to look at any of them anymore and diverted his gaze to the ocean. “I don’t even want _you_ seeing me! I’m not…” He didn’t finish, didn’t really know exactly what he’d planned on saying. How could any of them even want him? He was worthless now - befouled and ruined. Dagur had said no one else would want him, and that made complete sense. How _could_ anyone want him knowing what had happened? He’d gone from being their heir to a slave. It didn’t matter that Dagur had told him he wasn’t a slave. That’s what he was. 

“Hiccup, it’s alright,” Astrid soothed. “Don’t you want to see your dad?”

“No,” he answered quickly. “I mean yes.” He was supposed to say yes, wasn’t he? But then he shook his head in frustration, tears pricking at his eyes. “I don’t know!”

“Hey, man, Toothless is waiting for you,” Tuffnut told him. “Forget about all the people. Do it for Toothless.”

Toothless. His best friend wouldn’t judge him. Yes, he’d be confused and concerned, but he would never judge him. 

“F-for Toothless.” He drew in a deep breath and straightened his back. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“So keep going?” Fishlegs asked.

Hiccup just nodded. Yes, he could do this, if only to see his dragon again. If he pretended that he wasn’t going to see anyone but Toothless, he could do it.

Hiccup felt worse the closer they got, felt like his anxiety and dread was going to swallow him whole and kill him. He wished that it would. 

Then they were close enough for him to make out details of the island by the lights of lanterns and torches, close enough for him to feel like he was going to start crying. There were boats docked all around the island, and buildings he wasn’t familiar with on the cliffs. There were catapults and ballistae, and walls and watchtowers wherever they could fit them. Parts of the wall were crumbled and there was a heap of rock where a watchtower had most likely been. The stables and the clubhouse looked to be fortified with iron or steel plates.

This wasn’t his Dragon’s Edge he was returning to. This wasn’t his home.

They were hailed by the guards, and the Dragon Riders stopped to speak with them. Hiccup wanted to ask Fishlegs to find a way to cover him. He shrunk himself down, not caring how undignified it looked, though he did resist the urge to cover his face. His heart was beating too quickly and he felt ready to run. He found himself peering down towards the beach far below them. Would it kill him if he jumped?

He didn’t have the means to move though. His hips were hurting too much. He was trapped.

 _Oh dear gods._ He swallowed hard, feeling like he was going to be sick.

“Where’s Stoick?” Astrid called down to one of the guards.

“Clubhouse!” the man responded, sounding cheerful. He’d obviously noticed Hiccup.

_No, no, please let me die right now. Let me die, let me die._

As they took off in that direction to land, they heard a shout of: “Hiccup’s back!” It began resounding all around and Hiccup clutched his robe tight around him, wishing he was invisible, shrinking back against Fishlegs as if he would serve as protection. Better than being invisible, he wished that he just _wasn’t there_.

Then they landed at the clubhouse. Hiccup thought he was going to faint. He could hear his own heart thudding in his head. He was going to see his dad. Now. Right now. 

_Please, Thor, just kill me. Someone kill me._

He allowed Fishlegs to help him off, and he didn’t know how he was standing. His knees wobbled and he felt weak. He was blinking back tears.

 _Oh, Thor, help me._

His father emerged from the clubhouse before he could make a move towards it, saving him the trouble of actually making his legs listen to him. He’d never seen so much relief on his dad’s face before. He wished he could feel the same, wished he could feel something other than dread.

Then before Hiccup could do anything, he was wrapped in two huge arms and squeezed tight. The contact made his heart skip a beat and pumped adrenaline through his veins, but he just froze solid.

“My son!” Stoick cried. “Oh, Hiccup, I missed you so much.” He sounded like he was crying, which was exactly what Hiccup wanted to do, but for an entirely different reason. 

“Please let go of me,” he said quietly. There were tears now. It hurt that he wasn't feeling comfort from being in his dad’s arms, but terror instead. He realized that he so desperately just wanted his dad to keep on hugging him and hide him from all the terrors of the world, but some part of him could only associate the contact with violence. He just wanted to feel safe in his arms, but he couldn’t. It wasn’t fair.

His dad thankfully did as he said, and Hiccup couldn't look at him once they broke apart. He felt like there was a wall between them that had been bridged briefly when he’d hugged him, but had sprung back up once he’d let go.

“Hiccup?” He was definitely confused.

Hiccup wiped at his face, but it did no good with how fast the tears were falling now. “I-I missed you too, dad.” He hugged his arms, tried meeting his dad’s gaze, but looking at his eyes for even a split second was too much. He was afraid of what he would see there. Even worse, he was afraid of what Stoick would see in his. “I’m sorry, dad! I'm sorry!” 

“Hiccup, what on earth are you apologizing for?” Stoick was stunned.

 _Everything._ Hiccup was apologizing for absolutely everything that had happened; for the war with Viggo, for being captured by Dagur, for being tortured and raped and branded, for having to be rescued instead of saving himself, for not hugging him back. Hel, he was even apologizing for being born. It would have saved everyone and himself all this misery.

He just shook his head. “I-I’m sorry. So sorry.”

“Hiccup, how about we, um, talk inside?” 

It was tentative, but Hiccup knew it wasn’t a suggestion. He somehow managed to make his legs move in the direction of the clubhouse after his dad, head hung low. He was still so scared. He didn’t know what Stoick was going to say to him.

He had to admit that he did feel a little better when it was just the two of them alone. Neither of them sat, standing a few feet apart from each other.

Hiccup sniffled, rubbed at his face, then looked down at the floorboards. He didn't know what to say.

“Hiccup, I’m happy you're home.” Stoick’s voice was gentle. 

Hiccup nodded his head for some reason. Of course his dad was happy. He wanted to be happy too, but he wasn't, and that caused him even more distress.

Stoick heaved a sigh. “Son, why won't you look at me?”

“I don't…” Hiccup started, but then trailed off. He didn't have the words to explain all that he was feeling.

“Hiccup?”

He felt him take a step forward, so he took one back, still not looking at him. Meeting his gaze would just make everything hurt more.

“How can you even look at me?” Hiccup asked. He was ashamed at how his father was seeing him: practically naked, bruised around his neck, cowering. How could his dad even stand to be around him knowing that he'd been violated and used by someone, had his very humanity taken from him? “I’m worthless.”

“Hiccup, worthless is the last thing you are.” His dad's voice was choked with emotion. “I’ve missed you so much. I went mad trying to find you. I-I had started thinking I’d lost you forever.”

“I’m sorry, dad,” he said sadly. If only he could have avoided all this, or escaped all on his own. If only Dagur could have just left the chain around his neck and let him die.

“What are you apologizing for?” Stoick asked in astonishment, moving closer. Hiccup looked to him with wide eyes and quickly shuffled backwards. It was awful to look into his eyes, but now that he'd done it, he couldn't look away. He searched them, but he couldn’t find anything but a mixture of confusion and relief. What did he see in his?

“B-because it's my fault, dad. It's all my fault.”

“What? Hiccup-”

He cut him off. “It’s my fault! I-I guess I did something that made Dagur interested in me, so it's all my fault. It's my fault he captured me! It's my fault that… that he…” He couldn't bring himself to say it, especially not to his dad. “It’s my fault and I'm sorry.”

Stoick was flabbergasted. “Hiccup, none of this is your fault! None of this was your choice! Dagur is twisted and insane and without reason!” He suddenly grabbed him by the shoulders and Hiccup's heart stopped for a moment. “What other people do is not your fault! He made his own decisions and I’m gonna damn well unman him and kill him for which ones he made!”

“Dad, no, you don't… you don't understand.” Hiccup found it hard to speak. He struggled a little in his dad’s grip, wishing to get away. “It _is_ my fault and I'm not worth it.” Fresh tears stung at his eyes. “Y-you don't kn-know. You don't.” He would never tell his dad that there had been so much more to his captivity than being held down and raped, that there were things that he'd done of his own volition, that he'd forgotten himself and liked some of it. It all caused this horrible turmoil inside of him that made him feel like he was going to explode. It was too much for one person to handle. He just wanted to somehow scream it all out of him.

He finally yanked himself away, stumbling and nearly falling. 

Stoick’s expression was sorrowful. “Then help me understand, son. What is it you need to feel better?”

“I-I don’t know, dad,” Hiccup responded quietly, feeling hopeless. He looked down at the floor again. His feelings were all so strange and conflicting, and some part of him actually wanted to go back to Dagur. It was what he had grown used to, what he had resigned himself to living like. He’d lost hope that he’d ever see his dad or any of his friends again, and being back with them was terrifying and made no sense. None of it made sense and he just wanted to be left alone so he could curl into a ball and die. It seemed to be the only good option.

“Well, the first thing to do would be to have Gothi take a look at you.”

Hiccup’s head shot up, eyes going big. He shook his head frantically. “No, dad, no.” That would mean undressing and revealing all that had been done to him, his numerous scars, the marks from Dagur’s mouth, the bruises that were shaped like his fingers and hands, and worst of all, the brand.

“But, Hiccup, you’re hurt,” his dad tried reasoning. His expression was soft, but it did nothing to quell the rising panic inside of him.

He shook his head again. “No, no. I-I’m fine. She doesn’t have to look at me.”

“Would you let Gobber do it?”

He wanted to scream. Was there no getting out of this?

“Dad, no! Please, please!” He was crying again. “Please don’t make me!”

“Hiccup-”

“ _No!_ ” Despite how he wanted to cower and hide, he straightened his back, lower lip trembling. “I’m going to go see Toothless.”

Hiccup turned and made for the door, hoping that his dad wouldn’t grab him, that he would just let him go and see his dragon. But suddenly the door opened and he was rushed into two big arms and actually lifted off the ground. He let loose a startled scream.

“No, no! Put me down!” He thrashed, trying to free himself from Gobber’s suffocating hug. It didn’t matter who it was that touched him; every bit of physical contact just made him think of Dagur. Everyone who touched him _became_ Dagur, their hands turning into his, their intent to hurt or violate him. “Stop! Let me go!”

Gobber dropped him back onto the ground, and Hiccup stumbled backwards, getting into a defensive position, eyes flitting between him and his dad. His dad’s friend was just looking at him in astonishment.

“Hiccup, I, uh, heard you were back,” Gobber started, seeming unsure of what to say. “It’s good to see you.”

“Gobber, I’m glad you’re here,” Stoick said. “I’m trying to convince him to see Gothi.”

Hiccup’s skin crawled as Gobber looked him up and down. He knew he had his robe on, knew that he was covered, but it felt like he wasn’t, felt like he could somehow see underneath it and see everything that had been done to him.

“Yeah, he probably should,” he agreed.

Hiccup backed away from the both of them. There were shields as decoration on the wall behind him. He’d feel much better if he had one.

“No, I’m not going to. Please, you can’t make me.” He didn’t know what to do. There seemed to be no way out of this. There was no denying that he was hurt, especially since he was the one feeling it, but that didn’t mean he wanted anyone to see him.

“Hiccup, it’s for your own good!” Stoick growled in obvious frustration. He came towards him and Hiccup backed up against the wall, reached for one of the shields. He got one in his grip and held it in front of him.

“Stay away from me!”

“Hiccup, please.” That was Gobber, now coming towards him as well.

“No, no! Stay away!” He shuffled into a corner, wishing he could get away from the two of them. They were approaching slowly, but there seemed to be no way out. He was too hurt to run very fast. If he tried to get past Gobber, who was closest to the door, he certainly wouldn’t make it. 

Hiccup couldn’t help screaming as they advanced on him. He sank against the wall to make himself smaller and angled the shield so that it covered almost all of him, ducking his head behind it. He just wanted to hide, to not be seen by anyone.

“Stay away, stay away!” he pleaded, sobbing now. “ _Please!_ ”

There was no response, the only sound his helpless, terrified bawling. No one touched him or tried to pull the shield from him either.

After a minute or two, Hiccup managed to pull himself together a little, and he cautiously peered over the shield. Gobber and his dad were both a few feet away from him, looking a mixture of dismayed and concerned.

“Alright, Hiccup,” Stoick finally said. “We won’t make you see Gothi, okay?”

“R-really?”

“Really.” His father smiled at him, but it was a sad one. “How about we get you something to eat?”

He slowly stood, lowering the shield. His face burned red and he felt sick with embarrassment. He hadn't thrown such a fit in front of his father since he was four or five years old.

“O-okay.” He stepped away from the corner, leaving the shield against the wall. The weakened fingers of his right hand ached from holding it so tightly.

Gobber and Stoick allowed him to sit down at the table without touching him or trying to grab him. He was thankful for that, but still scared that they wouldn’t stick to their word and would grab him when he least expected it.

Once he sat, he put his arms on the table and buried his face in his hands in despair. He didn't know what he needed or how to make things better. Everything was a disaster and he just wanted it to end. He hadn't felt this badly in a while, not since his first rape and his branding. Things had gotten better when he had just started doing what Dagur wanted, when he had accepted what his life had come to. There hadn't been so much strife and pain. He’d just figured that if he was going to be Dagur's consort for the rest of his life, he might as well be a compliant one and save himself the trouble of fighting and disobeying.

Hiccup didn't pay attention to anything that was going on around him, eyes closed and face covered, lost in thought, trying to work out what he was feeling. He should be happy that he was home, that he was away from Dagur. He should be happy to see his dad again, but all of this caused internal pain, which grew even worse just due to the fact that he was experiencing it.

_I just want to see Toothless._

He decided that after he ate, he was going to see his dragon and there was nothing anyone could do to stop him. Toothless, he would be happy to see. He would be so much easier to be around than other people. When things got rough, he often was. Toothless was so much easier to deal with.

Hiccup lifted his head when a plate and a cup were set down in front of him. He looked to see Gobber sitting down next to him. A quick survey of the clubhouse showed that Stoick had left.

“Where’d my dad go?” he asked hoarsely. He reached for his cup, thirsty and thankful to have something to drink.

“He has some things to take care of,” Gobber answered. “It’s gotten really busy around here.”

“Mm, no kidding.” He was a little surprised to find that he was drinking ale, having expected water, but then again, maybe alcohol would do him some good. Maybe they’d even let him have enough to get drunk. He liked getting drunk, found himself wanting to rather desperately. He took another sip. “Why didn’t the Riders abandon the Edge when I was first taken?” Hiccup asked, trying to make conversation to push away his emotions. “Those had been my orders.”

“Stoick wanted to make a stand here,” Gobber said with a shrug. “And, well, we’d received the message on Toothless’ tail fin, and your friends told us that if it was Dagur who had you, we didn’t have to expect an attack from him.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about all this, lad. You don’t deserve any of it.”

“Thank you, Gobber.” Hiccup didn’t know what else to say. He couldn’t tell Gobber that that wasn’t true, that he did deserve it. Dagur had told him he did, and now he didn’t feel like he deserved anyone’s kindness. He didn’t deserve to be treated like a human being when he wasn’t one. He deserved to hurt.

“Well, enough talking. I’ll let you eat.”

Gobber stayed with him while he ate, which he actually didn’t mind. He felt comfortable around him at the moment, since he wasn’t making any physical contact and not approaching him in what felt like a threatening manner. Of course the silence had tension in it, but not as much as Hiccup had expected. The wall wasn’t as high with him for some reason. Maybe it’s because he wasn’t his dad, because he didn’t have all the same expectations of him.

Hiccup had barely finished when he began to feel drowsy. He guessed it made sense. He was still tired from everything he’d gone through, and emotions could be draining, especially crying, which he’d been doing way too much of for his liking.

He yawned into his hand. “I think… I think I’m just going to go see Toothless and then go to bed.”

But after he said it, he was feeling much too tired to go see his dragon. He just wanted to curl up in his own bed and pass out. Hel, he could even fall asleep right here.

_Oh no._

“What… What did you…?” His words didn’t want to come. His tongue felt heavy. He began to feel panic and terror, but it was weak, masked by the fog he was being forced into. “I…” He couldn’t believe this. His dad and Gobber had drugged him. Betrayal bit deep and sharp and he wanted to scream, but couldn’t find the energy to.

_No, no, can’t fall asleep._

“Why?” he asked weakly. He couldn’t sit up anymore, and he found himself in Gobber’s arms, eyes closing. He tried to fight and kick, but the commands weren’t making it to his limbs. “No. _No_.” 

“I’m sorry, Hiccup,” Gobber apologized, sounding sincere, but that still didn’t make him feel any better. “We had to.”

Hiccup was desperately fighting the fatigue that was crushing in around him and suffocating him. He gave a little, despairing moan, then lost the battle, succumbing to darkness.

 

Stoick sat with his head in his hands on the lower level of Hiccup’s hut. Gothi and Gobber were in the loft with Hiccup, who was soundly unconscious. He felt terribly guilty for having to trick and sedate him, but he hadn’t known what else to do. There had been no way he was going to let his son go without medical attention, especially with how he looked.

He’d seen him after the battle with the Red Death, with his foot missing and the lower part of his leg so burned and mangled that it had had to be amputated. He’d seen him close to death, but the way he was seeing him now felt so much worse: bruises and bitemarks on most of the skin that his robe, (the only piece of clothing he had,) didn’t cover, crying and screaming nearly every five minutes. To know what had been done to him was bad, but seeing the evidence of it was even worse. He secretly hoped that Gothi and Gobber wouldn’t have him come look at him, yet at the same time had a terrible curiosity to _know_. He didn’t know if ignorance would be better than knowledge, or vice versa. He was a mess of feelings, feelings that he didn’t necessarily understand or know how to deal with. He hadn’t felt this awful since he’d lost Valka.

Stoick wasn’t good with emotions and he knew it. He often buried what he was feeling. Emotions were no good when he had an entire tribe to look after. The times he did let himself feel, he lashed out, letting anger override everything. And oh yes, he was angry. He’d never before been so angry in his life, but at the moment there wasn’t anything he could do with that anger. It added to the pit of hopelessness that had been growing inside of him.

He didn’t know how to help Hiccup, how to comfort him. In other situations he could, but not with something like this, especially when he didn’t even want him to hug him. It hurt that he couldn’t provide his own son with physical comfort, that such a thing frightened him instead. He understood why, but he still felt a hint of rejection from it.

So, at the moment, he was doing the best he could: getting Hiccup physical help.

There was a clank of metal from above him. Gobber must have removed the cuff on Hiccup’s ankle. He was saying something softly to Gothi, and Stoick blocked it out, finding himself frightened at what it could be. 

A few minutes passed before he heard Gobber’s footsteps coming to the edge of the loft. Were they done already?

“Ah, Stoick?”

The chief lifted his head and looked to his friend, who was looking all sorts of distressed. It deepened the pit in his stomach.

“There’s something you need to see.” His voice was a mixture of sad, worried, and disturbed.

As Stoick stood, he prayed to Odin to give him strength, terrified at what could have upset Gobber so much. It felt much harder than usual to go up the stairs, as if he had a boulder chained to each foot. But still, he reached the top, then went over to Hiccup’s bed with bated breath.

It was glaringly obvious what Gobber had wanted him to see. He felt like he’d been punched in the stomach and submerged in freezing water at the same time.

His son bore the Berserker crest on the left side of his chest. A brand. Hiccup had been branded. By Dagur.

“Oh, Hiccup,” Stoick breathed softly, tears welling in his eyes. He didn’t know how to express all that he was feeling: shock, anger, sadness… It brought a real ache to his chest.

He felt Gobber’s hand on his shoulder, and he gave him a grateful look, glad that he was there. Gothi just looked on sorrowfully.

“What do we do, Gobber?” he asked hopelessly. He knew it was a pointless question. There was nothing that could be done. The brand was permanent, claiming Hiccup as Dagur’s property. He wanted to throw something, but he was almost feeling too weak to stand.

“Keep it a secret,” Gobber responded quietly, sounding just as hopeless. “At least it’s in a place that can be easily covered. No one else has to know about it.”

“But what about-”

“That’s for you and Hiccup to discuss,” Gobber interrupted, obviously knowing what he had been going to ask. Stoick was worrying about Hiccup’s status as his heir. By law he could no longer serve as chief, but this was his son. Certainly they could come to an agreement to ignore that.

_Unless he doesn’t want to be chief._

Hiccup had never been keen on the idea. What if he wanted to follow the law? But certainly that would bring up questions among the tribe, and he would probably want to avoid that. Gobber was right. That was something just the two of them had to discuss.

Stoick let his tears fall. How could he be expected to be, well, stoic, right now?

Finally, he drew his gaze away from that horrible brand, but it just led him to looking at the rest of his body. There was a long, pink scar that ran from his pelvis into his left side, as if he’d been sliced open. Black and purple bruises that looked too much like hands marred his hips and waist. There were marks all over his collarbone, thighs, and abdomen that could only have been made from someone’s mouth. Some were faded while others were red and fresh. There was an awful-looking _human_ bite on his left shoulder that must have broken skin. If all that wasn’t disturbing enough, Dagur’s name was carved into his right thigh, starting at the knee and going upwards so it could be read from the side.

“Dear gods.” It was hardly above a whisper. Stoick didn’t feel like he could produce anything else. He felt like he might be sick, but at the same time there was a thick, burning rage coursing through his veins. He wanted to rip Dagur’s deranged head off with his bare hands. No, he wanted to chop off his genitals before he killed him, then hack him to pieces and feed his remains to giant eels. Or impale him on a stake to tear apart his insides. His vision became consumed by red.

Stoick came back to himself when his knees hit the floor. He’d sunk down next to Hiccup’s bed, and he found himself taking his hand even though he wasn’t awake. He needed that to comfort himself.

“So Gothi said a lot of it is just scarring,” Gobber informed him. “But he has multiple cracked ribs and both his hips have fractures.”

“Is, he, um…? Can he…?” Stoick had to wet his lips before continuing. He didn’t want to ask, but he had to. “Can he produce an heir?”

“Yep, no damage to him, um, over there,” Gobber answered. The floorboards creaked a little as he shifted uncomfortably from foot-to-pegleg. “The most Gothi can do is bandage up his ribs and hips. He needs time to heal and she wants him on three weeks of bed rest.”

“Three weeks?” Stoick rose to his feet and turned to his friend in astonishment. “How am I supposed to get Hiccup to stay in bed for three weeks?! He can’t hold still for a day, never mind three _weeks!_ And what if Dagur comes for him?! Then what?!”

“Chief, you're getting ahead of yourself,” Gobber said gently. He took him by the shoulder and Stoick let him lead him away from Hiccup's bed.

“Okay, fine, but how in the Nine Worlds am I supposed to keep him in bed for three weeks?” Stoick was trying not to yell.

“Uh, well…” Gobber tapped his chin in thought. “We could hide all of his prosthetics.”

“Excuse me?” Stoick was baffled by the idea. Taking away Hiccup’s ability to walk seemed like an awfully cruel thing to do.

“It’d be the best way to get him to stay put and heal up.” Gobber was looking distressed. “I know it doesn't sound great, but-”

“You're right. It sounds like imprisoning him, Gobber.” Stoick narrowed his eyes in a glare, anger boiling up again. “Which I suspect he wouldn't take too kindly to after _actually being imprisoned._ ”

“Stoick, you have to think about it!” His friend’s voice was raised in desperation. He gestured over to Hiccup as he spoke. “He’s not himself! He's not thinking right! I mean, we had to _sedate_ him against his will to get him medical attention!” He stopped, breathing hard, tears glimmering in his eyes. “He’s not the same, Stoick.”

Stoick didn't have the strength to hold Gobber’s pain-filled gaze any longer. He looked to the floor, trying to suppress the ache in his throat. Gobber was right of course, right about everything. They didn't have a choice.

He drew in a breath to steady himself and hold back his tears. He was a Viking chief for Thor’s sake! He couldn't cry! Well, not in front of anybody at least.

“Gobber, take all his prosthetics and hide them.” It was hard to get the words out, and he sounded tired, realized that he felt it too. Just so, so tired. He brushed past him without looking at him, heading for the stairs. “I need to be alone.”

“Just be here in the morning,” Gobber told him as he descended. “When he wakes up.”

“Aye. I will be.”

Stoick stepped out into the night, grateful for the darkness that would hide his tormented features. He would go to his own hut, and once he was inside, he would let himself cry. Really cry. Not just silent tears and barely held back sobs. He would mourn Hiccup; though he was there and alive, there was a vital piece of him missing, maybe even all of him. He just wanted these past months to have never happened, to have his son, safe and unharmed and happy by his side. He might never get that again.


	80. Chapter 79

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a happy ending! I promise!

Astrid idly watched Heather undress from where she was lying in bed, on her side with her hands under her head. Heather tossed her shirt away from her like it disgusted her, and it probably did. It had Dagur’s blood on it.

“Do you think he’s going to be okay?” Astrid asked. She was worried about Hiccup, about leaving him alone. She didn’t know how he’d taken to being reunited with his father, and certainly Stoick had pushed for him to see Gothi. He was obviously hurt and needed help.

Heather pulled on a clean shirt before turning back to her and sitting on the bed. In the dim light of the candles Astrid could tell that she looked haggard, worn. The trip and rescue mission had clearly taken a lot out of her, the sole reason none of them had wanted her to go in the first place, but she’d been helpful. She’d distracted Dagur long enough for them to get Hiccup, and she’d wounded him.

“I don’t know, Astrid,” Heather answered forlornly with a shake of her head. “He doesn’t seem… He’s not himself.” She laid down, her back to her, and Astrid at first thought it was a sign that she didn’t want to talk, but then she said: “I hurt everywhere. A massage isn’t asking too much, is it?”

“Of course not, Heather.” Astrid reached out her hands, slid them under Heather’s shirt to touch her skin. She kneaded her thumbs into her shoulders, instantly coming in contact with knotted muscle. “Especially not after what you did.”

“But I failed. I didn’t kill him.”

“You tried to, and that’s what matters.”

“I should have. I hesitated, Astrid. I… I kissed him.” Guilt almost swallowed her voice. “And there was a moment that I didn’t hate him so much, a moment that I…” She didn’t finish, but she didn’t have to. Astrid knew what she had been going to say, knew that she was going to say that she loved him. She couldn’t blame her for it. Her relationship with Dagur was complicated and all sorts of messed up, but that didn’t change the fact that he was the only family she had.

“It’s okay, Heather. I understand.”

“But _I_ don’t understand. I don’t understand why I feel this way, why I can’t just hate him.” She sighed heavily. “I wish I didn’t feel anything towards him, even hatred. Indifference would be easier than feeling.”

Astrid didn’t know what to say to that. At the moment, she agreed with her. She was feeling so much pain from seeing Hiccup in pain, from seeing him changed and… broken. He was broken. She knew that now, was past denying it. Hiccup was broken and she didn’t know how to put him back together again.

Astrid and Heather were silent for a time, but there was a question nagging at Astrid’s mind, and it finally put itself into spoken word.

“How am I going to tell Hiccup about us?”

Heather didn’t say anything for a long while, and Astrid began to wonder if she’d fallen asleep. Then she did speak.

“I suppose you just… tell him. Or break it off with me.” Heather sounded hurt, but she kept going. “I’ll understand if that’s what you want to do. You were with him first, and you love him so-”

“But I love you too,” Astrid interrupted. It sounded greedy to her but: “Why can’t I love both of you?”

“You mean, we’d end up sharing you?”

“I guess, yeah.” The concept seemed strange to Astrid. It was practically unheard of to be with two people at once with both people knowing about it and being alright with it. “If you’re both okay with it.”

“If that’s what you want to do.” Heather shifted against her. “Can’t say I feel jealous or anything. But what if Hiccup doesn’t agree to it?”

“I don’t know,” Astrid replied. “I guess I’ll have to talk to him first and see. I don’t know when to bring it up though, how to. I don’t even know if he wants a relationship at all. He won’t let anyone touch him.”

“It’s gonna take time, Astrid,” Heather told her. “Let’s just give him that.”

 

The first thing Hiccup felt when he came to was stinging betrayal, then panic, but he was waking too slowly to move. He couldn't even open his eyes and he felt weighted down like there was a dragon on his back.

He emitted a small, helpless groan. He wanted to move, to open his eyes, to take stock of his situation.

His senses were beginning to come back to him, and he realized how much he ached - worse than he had before. It didn't feel like he was in his bed. He was laying on something soft and unfamiliar, covered in blankets. It felt like his midsection was bandaged. The cuff on his ankle was gone. He actually felt wrong without it: he’d gotten so used to it being there. To top it all off, he was naked.

Hiccup's sense of panic turned to one of horror. They’d seen. They’d _seen_ it.

“No, no,” he whimpered despairingly. He wanted to cry but tears wouldn't come.

“Hiccup.” That was his dad's voice, coming from his right. “It's okay. I'm here.” His voice was gentle, but quite far from soothing.

He finally got his eyes open, and he realized that he was in his hut on Dragon’s Edge. His dad was sitting close in a chair beside what had to be his bed. More awake now, he realized that he must be laying on a mattress, or whatever the Hel Dagur had called it. Heather must have brought the idea over from Berzerk.

Hiccup didn't know what to say. He was hurt and angry. His dad and Gobber had sedated him, and while he was unconscious, they'd seen everything that had been done to him. They’d seen his brand. They _knew_.

So, he didn't say anything. He just curled his lip in contempt and drew his eyes away.

“Hiccup, I’m sorry,” Stoick said. “You needed medical attention.”

“So you drugged me.” His voice was quiet, seething. And through all his anger his stomach was twisting and his chest was aching. His dad had seen his brand. He had thought he’d really wanted to die before, but now the feeling was even worse. He longed to pull the blankets over his head and never come out.

“I-I didn't know what else to do,” he responded, clearly distressed. “You weren't giving me any choice, Hiccup.”

“Yeah, and you didn't give me any choice either,” Hiccup said bitterly. He rolled onto his side so that his back was to Stoick. The position increased the pain in his right hip, but he stayed that way. He couldn't believe that his own father had done such a thing to him, had taken away his will and made him exposed and vulnerable. He wanted to scream, but he felt too weak and his ribs were hurting.

“Hiccup, you’re not exactly logical at the moment.”

“I don't care.”

Stoick breathed a heavy sigh. “Son, I did what I had to. I'm trying to take care of you. You were injured and refusing to get help, so yes, I sedated you, but that's all over and done with.”

Hiccup tightly clenched his jaw. There were so many things he wanted to say. He wanted to yell, but it all felt pointless for some reason. He remained silent.

“Son?”

“You know, that wasn't the first time I’ve been drugged against my will.” That was one reason that this was so horrible for him, because it had happened before and he had hoped it never would again. He’d never imagined that it would happen again because of his father.

“He drugged you?” Stoick asked in quiet astonishment.

Hiccup’s anger flared up again, and he found himself sitting up and facing his dad. He pulled the blankets over his chest to hide the brand, even though he had to have seen it already.

“Yes, dad! He drugged me!” He yelled. “He did a lot of bad things to me, and I didn't think you’d _ever_ do any of the things that he did, but you have! Why couldn't you have just let me have my choice?!”

Stoick stood and yelled right back. “Because it was the wrong one!”

“Ya know what? I don't give a damn what you think! I haven't been able to make my own choices for the last three months, so I don't care if they're right or wrong or _whatever!_ I want them to be my _own!_ ”

“I’m trying to help you!”

“Why?!” Hiccup shouted. He let go of the blankets and pointed to his brand. “You saw this! You know I'm not worth anything anymore!” He threw his hands up. “Hel, I’m not even a person! I'm just an object! Used goods! I'm _nothing!_ ”

“Hiccup-”

“How can you even _look_ at me knowing what he did?!” His voice was rising into a shriek. “With this thing in my chest?! I'm his fucking _property!_ ”

Stoick suddenly grabbed him by the shoulders, a fire in his eyes. Hiccup froze up, skin crawling at the touch.

“Because you're my _son_ , Hiccup! Gods, do you even hear yourself?! This is crazy!”

“I _am_ hearing myself and it's _not_ crazy!” He tried shoving his dad away but he wouldn't let go. “I’m not your heir! I'm not anything! Just leave me in the woods to die like you should have when I was a baby!”

Stoick’s face suddenly lost all of its ferocity and his grip loosened. His eyes were sad. 

“Hiccup, I…” He paused and took a breath. There were tears in his eyes. “Hiccup, I love you. Can you not see that?”

“I-”

“No. Let me speak,” he said firmly as he sat on the bed.

Hiccup heard the command in his words and clamped his mouth shut, part of him fearing what would happen if he didn’t obey. Tears were welling in his own eyes. He didn't even know what he was feeling at the moment. There was just this awful turmoil that was tearing him apart from the inside. He didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to be facing his dad, especially not after what he had done to him. His anger tried to rise up again, but simply simmered out and died. He lacked the energy to sustain it.

“I don't care what that brand means. I don't care that you technically belong to Dag-”

“Don't say his name.” For some reason it felt wrong for anyone to say his name. It felt wrong for he himself to say it.

“Right, er, sorry.” Stoick licked his lips before continuing. “But I truly don't. Nothing he's done changes how I feel about you. I’d as soon as cut off my own hand with a blunt knife than disown you, and I can't think of anyone that I’d rather have as my son and heir.”

“But, dad…” Hiccup shook his head hopelessly. “I’m _not_ your heir. I’m not _anything_.”

“Hiccup, please. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t have to.”

He shook his head again, took Stoick’s hands but only to shove them off of him. “Pick someone else as your heir. Pick Snotlout for all I care.”

“I won’t. _You’re_ my heir.”

“We both know that legally I’m not.”

“Does it matter? No one else has to know.”

“You don’t… You don’t get it.”

“Then explain it to me.”

“I’m trying but you’re not listening!” Hiccup grabbed at his hair in frustration, lowered his head and squeezed his eyes shut as if not looking at anything would make it all go away. He suddenly wanted to be back with Dagur. He hated him and feared him, but if he was with him none of this would be happening. Besides, he was his. He belonged back with him whether he liked it or not. “I’m _his_ , dad. I-I’m not my own person. I’m his. It doesn’t matter what you want to think, because the truth is that he owns me.”

Stoick said nothing, and Hiccup lowered his hands and lifted his head, wondering if he’d gotten the point. Now Stoick wasn’t looking at him. He couldn’t tell what he was thinking. 

“Fine. You’re… you’re not my heir.” The words came out heavily, and Stoick drew a long breath before speaking again. “But you’re still my son.”

Hiccup was baffled. “Why…” He licked his lips. “Why would you want me as your son?”

“Is there a good reason I shouldn’t?” Stoick looked back to him, asked it like he dared him to give him one.

“I was… I am… You know what he used me for.”

It wasn’t a question, but: “I do.”

Hiccup turned his head away. He couldn’t stand how emphatically Stoick was looking at him. Now it felt like he was listening, and now he didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to voice all that he was feeling.

“I…” There was an ache in his throat, an impending sob. He held it back, choked on it. “I’m a slave, dad. A…” _What the Hel, I might as well say it._ “A sex slave. I’m the lowest form of humanity there is. Maybe I’m not even that.”

“Not even what?”

“Human.”

“Hiccup, how can you…?” Stoick seemed at a loss, put his hand on his shoulder. “How can you say that?”

Hiccup wanted to tell him to not touch him, but he knew saying such a thing wouldn’t work, knew that it meant nothing. 

“He put a collar on me,” Hiccup told him. “Sewed it on so I couldn’t take it off. And he- the only clothing he gave me was that _stupid_ robe.” He clenched his hands into fists, the action making the fingers on his right one ache a little. “He’d take it away from me if I did something he didn’t like, told me I’d lost my clothing privileges like it wasn’t a basic right I should have had in the first place.” Talking about it, Hiccup remembered that clothing was something he didn’t have right now either. He shrugged his dad’s hand off, pulled the blankets off, made to stand. He didn’t care about him seeing him now. He’d already seen everything.

“Hiccup, I wouldn’t do that if-”

He fell, hitting the floor hard. He’d expected his prosthetic to be there to hold him up, but it wasn’t. It was gone.

“You _took_ my _leg?_ ” Tears came now, tears of anger, frustration, _betrayal_. First his dad had sedated him against his will, and now he’d taken away his means of walking. Hiccup couldn’t fathom why he would do this to him. He got on all fours, breathing hard, holding in a scream.

“I’m- I tried to warn you. Let me help you up.” Stoick reached for him, but Hiccup slapped at his hands, hoping the action hurt him, even just a little bit.

Despite the pain he was in, despite how he’d started shaking, Hiccup managed to pull himself back up onto the bed. He hugged his arms to himself, wanting a hug, but not from his dad, not from anybody really. The concept just seemed nice to him, seemed comforting.

“Wh-why are you _doing_ this to me?” He glared at his father, but didn’t meet his eyes. “H-how _could_ you do this to me?! I-I’m imprisoned for three months and the first thing you do when I get back is imprison me _again?!_ How _could_ you?!” He hated him, or, at least he wanted to. He wanted to hate him, but he didn’t feel like there was room for it among the hate he already felt for Dagur and himself.

“Hiccup, I’m not trying to imprison you.” 

For the first time Hiccup realized how tired his father sounded, how tired he _looked_. There were grey streaks in his hair and beard that hadn’t been there the last he’d seen him. There were more lines on his face.

“I’m trying to help you. And right now helping doesn’t look good, but… I don’t know what else to do.”

“Y-you could have listened to me.”

“And let you go without medical attention?” The words were incredulous. “Let you walk around with your injuries until you collapsed?”

Hiccup was angry, but he could see his point. He wasn’t being reasonable. He didn’t know how to be reasonable anymore.

“Wh-what are my injuries?” Hiccup wiped at his face, turned his head away, and Stoick sat on the bed beside him.

“Are you sure you can handle it right now?”

Hiccup wasn’t so sure, but he nodded anyway. He needed to know what Dagur had done to him, why he was hurting. He lowered one hand, idly fingered at one of the runes in his thigh.

“Most of it’s scarring, but I’m sure you know that.”

Hiccup nodded, waiting for him to continue.

“You have a few cracked ribs and both your hips have fractures. Gothi wants you on bedrest for three weeks.”

Horror made Hiccup’s stomach bottom out and he found himself cringing and shrinking down to make himself smaller. His hands flew to the blankets to clutch them tight. _Fractures._ Dagur had held him hard enough to cause _fractures_. It made sense given how he’d consistently held him too hard, but it terrified him that he’d been subject to that, that he’d been used so brutally that it had left lasting damage to his body. 

Then it was like he was touching him again, stroking his hips before taking them and _crushing_ them, crushing _him_. It was like he could feel his weight on him, his breath. He was shoving him down onto his back, and one hand went to his throat. That’s why he felt like he couldn’t breathe, why his chest was aching, why he felt a rushing in his head. Hiccup was crying too, and depending on what mood Dagur was in he’d take pleasure in it or find it annoying. He waited for harsh words, or maybe a laugh and a tongue across his cheek.

“Hiccup?” His dad’s voice drove away the feeling of Dagur’s touch. Though, he was really on his back with tears streaming down his face. He was breathing so fast that his breaths were meaningless. He would have panicked save for the fact that he already felt like he was panicking. It was like what had happened the other night with Astrid. “Hiccup, what’s happening?”

“G-give me a-a min-minute,” he gasped out. Not caring how it would hurt his hip, wanting to hide himself, Hiccup rolled onto his side, put his back to his father. There was a slight gasp from Stoick at the sight of his back. Apparently he hadn’t seen the damage that had been done to him there.

“Son, what’s going on? Tell me: how can I help?”

“Y-you can’t. J-just shut- shut up.” It hurt Hiccup after he said the words. He’d never told his father that before, but he wouldn’t have taken it back had he been given the chance. Besides, his father couldn’t help with this. It would pass on its own. He also couldn’t help with anything else either. He knew that he’d been trying to, but in doing so he’d hurt him. He’d violated his trust of him, taken advantage of it. He’d drugged him, just like Dagur had.

Hiccup wanted to scream, and he tried, but all that wanted to come out of him was a pathetic-sounding whimper. He kept trying, wanting to release the emotions through his voice, to somehow yell them out of existence. 

Eventually, he could breathe again, and he did scream. It hurt his body to do it, but he didn’t care. He kept doing it, releasing his voice till he was on the verge of losing it. Then he just laid there, crying and shaking, ignoring his father’s calls of his name.

His hand touched his back and Hiccup violently arched away from it like it had burned him. “Don’t touch me, don’t touch me!” He didn’t care if those words had no meaning - he had to say them, had to make it known that he didn’t want to be touched. Hiccup was shocked when Stoick pulled his hand away and adhered to his wishes. He didn’t think that was how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to shout for him not to do it and he’d keep doing it regardless. That’s how things worked, wasn’t it? His boundaries didn’t matter. He shouldn’t have had any. Why was his father acting like it did matter?

The shock from that pulled Hiccup back to himself, and he sat up, yanked the blankets over his lower half, looking at Stoick questioningly.

“Why’d you do that?”

Stoick’s eyes were wide and he’d gone pale. He seemed concerned and unsettled over what had just happened.

“Why’d I do what?”

“Why’d you stop touching me?” Hiccup asked, genuinely curious.

Stoick looked baffled. “Because you… Because you told me to.”

“But that’s not…” Hiccup tilted his head, awfully confused. “That’s not how it works. Those words don’t mean anything.”

“Oh gods, Hiccup.” Stoick’s voice broke on his name and he turned his head away from him, lowered it into his hands. It took Hiccup a moment to realize that he was crying. His dad was actually crying.

“Wh-why are you crying?” he asked tentatively. “What did I do?”

“Nothing. Y-you did nothing.” Stoick inhaled deeply, clearly trying to stop, to try to keep the rest of his tears in. He wiped at his face, lifted his head. “Just… those words _do_ have meaning.”

Hiccup squinted. He couldn’t recall them having meaning. They hadn’t meant anything to Dagur. He’d just always ignored his pleas for him to stop touching him and had done so anyway. He’d done the same with the words “stop” and “no.” It made sense. He belonged to him and shouldn’t have even told him that anyway. Whatever Dagur wanted with him, he was allowed to get.

“They do?”

“Yes, Hiccup, they do.” Stoick wiped at his face again, sniffled. His tears were slowing, but Hiccup could see how he was hurting in the way he was holding himself, almost hunched over. “Is it alright if I show you?”

Hiccup thought for a moment, but then nodded. Stoick placed his hand on his shoulder and he flinched, but didn’t say anything.

“Hiccup, say it.”

He looked to his hand, at him, then back at his hand again. He could really get that off of him with words?

“Don’t touch me?” It came out as a question.

“No, _say_ it,” Stoick intoned. “ _Tell_ me. What you want is not a question.”

“Don’t touch me.”

And, just like that, Stoick lifted his hand off of him. Hiccup looked back to him, stunned. “Th-that works?”

At the moment, Stoick looked like someone had punched him in the gut, but he nodded, forced a smile. “Yes, Hiccup, that works.”

He was still so confused by this. “But Dag- He never listened when I told him that. It didn’t work with him, so eventually I just stopped saying it. I guess I wasn’t really even supposed to in the first place. I mean, I could before he branded me, but…” Hiccup didn’t know what else to say, just shrugged.

“How…” Stoick looked like he was questioning whether or not he should continue. Hiccup just waited, and eventually he did. “How early on did he brand you?”

Hiccup found himself touching the brand, running his fingers along the shape of it. “Pretty early on,” he answered. “He-” _Why am I telling him this?_ \- “took me before that though, when I was still my…” He pulled in a breath, hoping to dispel the pain in his chest- “My own person.” He couldn’t remember how many times it had been before Dagur had branded him. It had happened so many times that now most of it was all a blur to him.

Stoick said nothing to this, only nodded, looking grim. After a moment he said: “Now, I suppose you want clothes.”

Hiccup’s face lit up at this. Clothes! He could have clothes! He nodded vigorously, smiling for what felt like the first time in a while. He’d smiled for Dagur, but it had never been as real as it was now. It felt good, drove away the pain in his chest. He suddenly felt like he wanted to shout and jump around for joy. He could have clothes again!

He eagerly directed his father to where he kept them, and soon he was being handed a white long-sleeved shirt and green pants. They were loose, what he’d used to wear for sleeping. He denied Stoick’s offer of help with them, wanting to do this on his own. He wasn’t so helpless that he needed help dressing.

The pants felt awfully strange, and he almost wanted to take them off, but he decided to push through the discomfort. It felt weird and not right to be wearing pants right now, but he’d get used to it again. The shirt didn’t feel as strange. Once he was dressed he ran his hands over himself, over his _clothing_. He almost couldn’t believe that he was wearing it again, that he actually wasn’t _naked_. 

“I’m dressed.” He said it to his dad, who’d kept his back turned to him, though he’d been seeing him naked since he woke up. He also said it for himself, feeling disbelief at the words. He actually laughed a little. “I’m _dressed_.”

Stoick didn’t say anything to this. There was a pained-looking smile on his face. 

“I can get you something to eat.”

Hiccup almost accepted his offer, but then he shook his head. That’s how he’d drugged him the night before, through his food or what he’d been drinking. He knew that logically, there was no reason for Stoick to do that to him again, but he just couldn’t trust him, couldn’t trust anything he gave him. Besides, there was something he wanted more than food.

“I want Toothless.” After he said it, Hiccup was afraid that he’d be denied seeing his dragon for some reason, that Stoick would insist he ate first. He didn’t want that. He wanted Toothless.

“Aye, I’ll go get him for you.”

Hiccup beamed at his words. Though, his smile fell when his father left him alone. Worry gnawed at his stomach. Would Toothless know it was him? He knew he looked different, and he was sure he smelled different too, sure that he smelled like Dagur. What if he’d reject him for it?

“No, no,” he muttered out loud. He didn’t want that to happen. He just wanted his dragon. He’d been sure that Toothless wouldn’t judge him, mainly because he wouldn’t know what had happened, but he’d be able to tell that he looked different and smelled different. Now he was wondering if he should have requested a bath first, if he should have just taken his bandages off and cleaned himself in scalding hot water. When he did bathe he wanted it scalding, wanted it to burn him, to hurt. Only if it burned would he feel that he had removed a fraction of Dagur’s touch.

Hiccup went back and forth between happiness and despair in the few minutes that it took for his father to return. His heart was pounding when the door opened.

“Hiccup, call to him!”

“Toothless!” He was scared for some reason now, so scared, and his voice was shrill with it. There were pounding footsteps, a black form hopping up onto the loft. For long moments they just looked at each other, Toothless with his head tilted and his eyes slightly narrowed. His ears were up though, pricked with curiosity.

Hiccup felt tears coming again, but he didn’t know what for. He held out his hand. “Toothless, come here, bud.”

Toothless slinked over, sniffing, looking suspicious and confused. Hiccup felt like his heart was thudding in his ears.

“It’s me, bud,” he said, quieter. “It’s me. It’s Hiccup.”

Toothless sniffed at his hand, and Hiccup wanted to reach out to touch him, but he didn’t yet, knew that he had to finish this examination of him first before he was allowed to. Toothless came closer, putting a foot up on the bed, but he still didn’t allow Hiccup to touch him. He was close, so close, less than an inch away, sniffing at his face and neck. He lingered on the bruises, then moved on to smell the rest of his body.

“It’s me, bud,” Hiccup pleaded. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling like he couldn’t look. If Toothless was going to reject him he didn’t want to see it. “It’s still Hiccup. I-I know I look different and probably smell different, but it’s still me. Please, Toothless.”

He waited, barely breathing. He pulled his hand back towards himself, where Toothless would be able to touch it if he accepted him. If he didn’t he’d leave, and, Hiccup knew that there wasn’t much left of him to break, but that it would break him all the same. He waited for the pain of it, waited to-

Scales. Under his hand.

Hiccup opened his eyes, found Toothless pressing his snout into his palm, looking at him in such a loving, endearing way.

“Toothless,” he breathed, and then the dragon surged forward, rubbing his snout over his body before resting his head over his shoulder. For a moment the weight on him made Hiccup panic, but then he focused on the feeling of him, of his scales, his shape, on how he so clearly wasn’t human - wasn’t human and wasn’t here to hurt him. He wrapped his arms around him and hugged him. He cried now, cried out of relief and happiness. 

“Oh, Toothless!” Hiccup rubbed his face into his neck. “I thought I’d never see you again! I missed you! I missed you so much!”

Toothless made a rumbling sound, then tried climbing onto the bed with him. Hiccup gasped as his weight pressed against him, accidentally hurting him.

“Toothless, hold on, bud! Hold on!”

Toothless pulled away, gave him a look that was a mix of curiosity and concern. 

“Sorry, Toothless. I’m hurt.” Hiccup put his hands to his hips to show him where, and Toothless came forward and sniffed, as if he’d be able to tell from scent. _Who knows? Maybe he can._

Toothless cooed at him, nuzzled his head into his stomach. Hiccup threw himself over the top of his head, hugging him again, flooded with so much happiness he didn’t know what to do with it.

“I love you, Toothless! I love you!”

A few moments later Hiccup found himself on his back, a huge, familiar tongue working over his face, and he laughed, laughed hard, not caring at the moment how it hurt his ribs. He squirmed underneath Toothless, still laughing, batting at him playfully. Eventually, his friend stopped and Hiccup was able to wipe at his face and try to catch his breath. Then he just stared at Toothless, getting lost in his huge green eyes. He had thought he’d never see those eyes again, yet here he was, looking at them and seeing how they said he loved him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I can't help it. I just have to explain the color symbolism in the clothes I put Hiccup in. The white is seriously ironic because white as a color symbolizes purity, innocence, and virginity. Then the green is symbolically appropriate because it represents healing.


	81. Chapter 80

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back in college so chapters will probably be coming out slower. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

“Viggo, what are you doing?”

Viggo looked up from packing to see Ryker standing in the entrance of his tent, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

“Packing,” he answered before going back to it. “Now are you going to come in or do you prefer standing there and letting the cold in?”

Ryker came in, the tent flaps closing behind him, trapping the cold air back outside where it belonged.

“Where are you going? We’ve only been back two days.”

“Two days too long. I’m going to see Dagur, and you’re coming with me.”

"Why?"

Viggo straightened, put his hand to his forehead. "Must you ask so many questions, Ryker?"

"If it's concerning me, then yes."

"Fine." Viggo turned to him, leaning back on his desk and crossing his arms. "We're going to see Dagur because I want our alliance with him back. I'm tired of him sitting on the sidelines and doing nothing. Berk is his enemy too, and we can take them out together. He has numbers, and we can use them, especially after the losses we just took."

Ryker snorted. "Numbers. That's all you care about, isn't it?"

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."

Ryker came closer, a spark of anger in his eyes. "Numbers!" He threw his arms out. "That's all you care about! The numbers for how much gold you have, the numbers for what profits we make, the numbers for how many men we have! They _died_ , Viggo, died for you, and you're not human enough to give a damn! You just want to up and leave them after two days. You're the chief for Thor's sake! Shouldn't you at least _say_ something?! Give a eulogy of some sort?!"

Viggo opened his mouth to speak, but Ryker continued, cutting him off. "But no, you just want to go get more numbers so that some of them can die in the same way."

Viggo stood straight, sneering. That had hit a nerve with him. He couldn't stand it whenever his brother called his humanity into question, and he'd done it many times throughout their lives. What upset him the most about it was that it was all true, that he really couldn't bring himself to care, that numbers _were_ what he cared about over actual human lives.

"And maybe they will die, but it's worth a victory!" Viggo shouted. It wasn't often that he shouted, wasn't often that he got angry enough to.

"Would you say that to them?!" Ryker questioned, gesturing behind him, towards the rest of the camp. "Would you tell them that their deaths mean nothing to you except as a number on a piece of paper?!"

"You know I wouldn't say that! That would hardly work as motivation!"

"You mean it wouldn't work to manipulate them!"

Viggo didn't know how to respond to this, mostly because his brother was right. He would look stupid for denying what he was saying when it was obvious to him that it was true. Instead he asked: "Where is this coming from, Ryker?"

"You're obsessed," Ryker said. "And it's getting bad for the rest of us, but you can't see that."

Viggo scoffed. "And what is it you're saying I'm obsessed with?"

"With Hiccup, with Berk, with the Dragon Riders. Is that not clear to you? Are you so egotistical you don't even know your own mind?"

"I'm not obsessed! I'm being reasonable! I want to continue business, but business can't continue while they're still around!"

"Maybe it can. Maybe we can have peace with them."

" _Peace?_ Since when do _you_ speak of _peace?_ " Viggo looked his brother up and down, as if trying to make sure it was really him. "You're a brute who'd rather punch his way through something than talk it out."

"And you used to want to talk it out, but you don't anymore. It's Hiccup. It's the Dragon Riders." Ryker pressed a finger to his temple. "They've gotten in your head and now all you want to do is best them. They're just a bunch of kids, Viggo. Let it go."

" _Kids_ -" Viggo made quotes with his fingers- "that have bested us time and time again. Not to mention that Hiccup tricked us and made us lose five ships on Dark Deep."

"No, he tricked _you_ ," Ryker accused, pointing at him. "You went to talk to him. I didn't. It's your fault you believed him."

"I didn't know how strong he was then!" Viggo retorted. "Of course I believed him! I was torturing him! There's hardly anyone that can lie under torture!"

"Apparently _he_ can."

"Yes, well, I've now discovered pain doesn't work on him."

Ryker crossed his arms. "Maybe you weren't hurting him enough. Pain works on everyone eventually."

Viggo shook his head. "Not him. He withstood Triple Stryke venom."

"Really? That runt withstood _that?_ " Ryker's eyes had gone big with shock. "For how long? Most people don't last a whole minute. Was it five minutes?"

"Close to three hours," Viggo told him. It had happened a while ago, but he was still baffled by it. He couldn't figure out how Hiccup had that much endurance.

Ryker looked like he'd choked on something. " _Hours? Three hours?_ "

Viggo nodded.

"Wow.” Ryker blinked in astonishment. “Guess pain really doesn't work on him."

"And that is why I believed him when he lied, but I know how to get information from him now."

"So are you actually going to see Dagur for Dagur, or are you going for Hiccup?"

"We're going for Dagur, and if I need something from Hiccup while we're there, that will work too."

"Yeah, if Dagur doesn't find out and kill you."

"Well-" Viggo clapped him on the shoulder, glad that they were no longer arguing- "then I'll have you kill him first."

 

"Harder," Dagur ordered. "Come on. Use your hips."

"I-I'm trying." The blonde man (Dagur hadn't bothered to find out his name) sped up his movements, but they weren't the same as Hiccup's, weren't as satisfying. Dagur wished he could just roll him over and fuck him to his heart's content, but he knew it wasn't a good idea with his wound. He was weak anyway, from the herbs they'd been giving him for the pain and the pain itself, and his reality tended to fade in and out. This was all he could get for now.

“Well then try harder!”

The blonde man said nothing, just kept working himself over his cock. He was quiet during sex, only letting out the occasional moan, usually only when he came. Dagur didn’t like that. Hiccup had made a sound with every movement, every touch, sighing and moaning and crying out, making it clear how it had felt to him, and with his orgasms he’d screamed or come to the verge of it. They were such lovely noises and he missed them. Dagur was hardly satisfied with this. He grabbed at the man’s hips.

“Get off.”

The man stopped his movements, looking confused. “But you’re not done yet, my lord.” That was another thing Dagur didn’t like. He was too compliant. Hiccup had ended up being compliant, but there had still been a bit of a fire in him. He hadn’t always done things to please him. Hiccup had been a lover. This man was just a slave. His brand was small, on the back of his right shoulder, probably having been there since he was a child. All he knew how to do was obey and make sure to please.

“I said get off!” Dagur shouted, and at the sound of his voice rising, the man was quick to do so. He just knelt by him, awaiting further orders.

“Did I do something wrong, chief?” he asked meekly.

“You were doing everything wrong.” Dagur rubbed at his face, looked away from him. “Just get me off with your hand. Then you can go.” Dagur didn’t keep him with him constantly. It felt wrong to do so, to keep someone that wasn’t Hiccup. He just summoned him when he needed him.

The man didn’t hesitate, gripped his length and began stroking it. If he was good at doing one thing it was this. Hiccup had been good at it too when he’d started doing what he wanted. He liked Hiccup’s hands better.

“How’s that, chief?”

“Better than what you were during before. That’s for sure.” Dagur wouldn’t give him praise right now. He wasn’t in the mood. All he wanted at the moment was Hiccup, _his_ Hiccup, to be buried inside of him and holding him and listening to those beautiful sounds he made. Though, all he could do was imagine him, imagine that it was his hand he was bucking into when he came. His name left his lips, a desperate, heartbroken moan for him. The blonde man made no comment.

After the man had left and Dagur had cleaned himself off and dressed, he just laid on his back and looked up at the roof of the tent. Tears pricked at his eyes, but he wouldn’t allow himself to cry. Not again. He knew it was ridiculous, but he wondered if Hiccup could feel his longing for him from so far away. He wondered if Hiccup was feeling the same longing for him.

Dagur was tired, but he didn’t want to sleep. If he slept, he’d dream of Hiccup, but then he’d wake without him there.

 

Hiccup had requested that Tuffnut and Snotlout bring him his breakfast, not ready to trust anything from his father. Besides, it would be the easiest with these two, given that they’d seen everything already. Now, Tuffnut sat in the chair that his dad had vacated, straddling it with his arms on the back of it. Snotlout sat cross legged at the end of his bed. Toothless had been halfway on the bed with his head in Hiccup’s lap, but he’d moved to give him room to eat, now sitting beside the bed, close enough to touch if Hiccup wanted to.

Hiccup thanked them for the food, began eating, and for a long while no one said anything and there was just tension. Tuffnut eventually broke the silence.

“Good to see you in real clothes again, man.”

“Good to _be_ in real clothes,” Hiccup replied with a small smile. The pants were still a discomfort to him though. It felt strange to have fabric on him like that, wrapped around his legs. He was still glad for them of course. These would be harder to pull off of him.

“So how’d it go with your dad?” Snotlout asked.

“Um…” Hiccup didn’t know how to answer. He was still angry with his father, though he now understood why he’d sedated him. He’d just been trying to look out for him, do what he thought was best. “Okay, I guess.”

“You don’t sound so sure.” Tuffnut scooted the chair closer, lowering his voice to a whisper with his next words though they were the only ones in the hut: “Did he see it?”

Hiccup put down his silverware, looked down at his food, nodded. “H-he saw everything. He knows.”

“Did you show him, or…?” Snotlout asked.

Hiccup didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want his friends to be mad at his father too, and they certainly would be if they found out what he’d done.

“No, but it’s kind of a long story.” Hopefully they’d be able to take that as him not wanting to talk about it.

“Okay. Just know you can tell us anything,” Tuffnut told him. He reached out, most likely to put a hand on his shoulder, but then frowned a little and pulled his hand back. Hiccup felt a little hurt that he had to do that, but also grateful that he had. He picked up his silverware, continued eating. He actually felt hungry for once. He seemed to be getting his appetite back, and he was glad for it.

“Did you see Gothi?”

Hiccup nodded at Snotlout’s question.

“Can I ask what she said? Well, I mean, scribbled?”

Hiccup figured it was okay if he told them. They'd seen the damage that had been done to him. They would understand.

"My, um..." He trailed off. His injuries were still horrifying for him to think about. Even though he'd experienced it, it was hard to believe that Dagur had been so brutal with his body.

"Hiccup, you don't have to tell us if you don't want to," Tuffnut said.

"O-okay. Yeah." He wanted to tell them for some reason, like telling would lift a burden from him, but he couldn't bring himself to say it. What was particularly bad about the injuries to his hips was that it was obvious how he had gotten them, obvious what had been taking place when it had occurred. They knew Dagur hadn't gone easy on him, but saying it would just make it more real somehow. It was already real enough for him. "Maybe later."

Hiccup wanted to talk. He wanted to tell them about all he'd gone through, to just get it out of him somehow, but the words felt stuck inside of him, stuck like when he'd been mute for that short time. They were silent, as if they knew he wanted to say something and were waiting for it, waiting for him to say something about his captivity, about what he was feeling. That's not what came out of his mouth.

"Are you two dating?"

Snotlout and Tuffnut looked between each other, both sharing sheepish-looking smiles. That was all the answer Hiccup needed, but they answered verbally too.

"Yep." Snotlout shifted a little on the bed. "That we are."

"Uh huh." Tuffnut's smile grew more confident.

"And how's that been?" Hiccup asked. He smiled too. It was good to see his friends happy.

"Pretty great, save for the fact that we have to hide it from my dad," Snotlout answered. "Honestly, why can't he just let me date who I want?"

"You are dating who you want," Tuffnut pointed out.

Snotlout rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean, Tuff. I wish I could tell him about us and he wouldn't blow up or something. Like, seriously." He spread his hands. "What does he have against two guys getting together anyway?"

Hiccup tried to smile, and he succeeded on the motion, but he knew it would look fake, that it wouldn't reach his eyes. He had wanted to discuss something happy, but it had just led to him thinking about Dagur, about the time he'd admitted to him that he wasn't attracted to men, and naturally Dagur hadn't cared. He'd just told him he could change that and then pressed his lips to his. He spoke to try to shove the memory back down.

"What does Ruffnut think of it?"

"Oh, she's fine with it," Tuffnut replied. "Probably glad that her dork of a brother finally found someone and isn't permanently glued to her side. I know I get annoying. Just got to switch up who I'm annoying, you know?"

"Well, I'll be really happy for you to annoy me again," Hiccup told him. "I missed you guys. Not just you, but everyone. A whole lot."

"We missed you a lot too, Hiccup," Snotlout said. "It's just not... right without you here. It didn't really feel like we were the Dragon Riders. And then Astrid left with Heather, so it was just me,  
Ruff, Tuff, and Fishlegs. "It's good to be back together again, though things are different."

Hiccup knew that he must have been talking about him, about how he was different, and though it was true it hurt a little.

"I hope things won't be different for too long," Hiccup said. Having finished his food, he pushed his plate away, picked at one of the blankets. "I hope I can be... okay again."

"Oh, I mean, I wasn't talking about you," Snotlout hurriedly said. Hiccup just gave him a look that told him to be honest. "Okay, yeah, I kind of was, but not just you. It's weird with Heather being pregnant with-" Snotlout instantly clamped his hands over his mouth, to keep himself from continuing. After a few moments he lowered them. "You know, just, being pregnant."

Hiccup realized that he'd probably known Heather was pregnant long before any of his friends had. If Astrid and Heather had only returned recently, then they probably hadn't known for very long. Hiccup had known for weeks now, from one of Dagur's spies.

"I knew about that, actually," Hiccup admitted. "He told me what his spies would tell him." He wanted to ask who the father was, but there was a sinking feeling of dread in his stomach like he already knew. He already knew and didn't want to think it, didn't want to admit it. Just the way no one was talking about it, the way Snotlout had shut himself up before mentioning it, who Heather had had relations with before and how far along she looked - it was almost too obvious, but Hiccup didn't want to think that.

"You don't know who the father is, right?" Tuffnut asked. Hiccup shook his head, alright with keeping himself ignorant for the moment, alright with ignoring his assumptions about it. He hoped Tuffnut wasn't about to tell him though. It really wasn't his place to do so.

"Okay, um..." Tuffnut just nodded. "Yeah, okay. Good. So, how often did he talk to you? How much did he tell you?"

Hiccup shrugged. "Don't really know what he left out. He... He talked a lot though." He'd begun thinking of that strange familiarity he and Dagur had with each other that had existed long before he'd taken him captive, that familiarity that had allowed them to have seemingly normal conversations. He thought of how he'd just lain beside Dagur and talked with him like there was nothing wrong with what was happening, like it was the most normal thing in the world, like he truly had been his lover and not his slave and captive. He thought of how Dagur had insisted that he wasn't a slave, and it seemed like such a stupid thing. He'd branded him. That was the mark of a slave. People didn't just go around branding their loved ones.

"It was weird," Hiccup continued, now looking away from them. Maybe he could talk if he just wasn’t looking at anyone. "It was just so _weird_. Like, he and I have known each other pretty much our whole lives, and then _this_ happened, and he acted like it was _normal_ , like there was nothing at all strange about keeping someone chained up in his tent.” This not looking at anyone was starting to make him feel alone, separated, so he looked to Toothless, reached out and began stroking him on the head. That made him feel a little better. “It wasn’t- it wasn’t all _bad_. There wasn’t always conflict. Sometimes we’d just… lay there and talk to each other like we were a couple or something, like it was the most normal thing in the world.” Hiccup’s skin began to crawl thinking about it, about all the things that had happened that seemed like something a normal couple would do - Dagur had often washed his hair for him and given him a shave, and there had been a few times where he’d made him return the favor and wash _his_ hair. “H-he told me I was his lover. But-” Hiccup put his other hand to his chest, his brand, in form of an explanation. “Lovers don’t do what he did. They don’t…” _rape you._ Hiccup was confused though. Had it been rape the entire time? He knew that he’d liked some of it, but was that really his fault? Could he blame himself for it when Dagur had made his body dependent on it? That still didn’t count as true consent, right?

Very suddenly, he wanted it, wanted it bad, and it added extra tension to the silence that followed his words - at least on his part. He was wearing clothes and he had blankets on him. There was no way Snotlout and Tuffnut would know. He wasn’t used to not being exposed, had thought for a moment that they’d instantly notice what was going on.

“Well, you’re home now,” Snotlout finally said after almost an entire minute in silence. “You’ll never have to deal with him again. We’ll make sure of it.”

Hiccup smiled weakly. “Thanks, Snotlout.” He never did want to see Dagur again. It would destroy him if he did. Thinking about it scared him, and it wasn’t necessarily Dagur that scared him, but he himself. How would he react to such a thing? Would he run into his arms because part of him so desperately wanted him? Would seeing him again after being away make him lose himself completely to need?

_That is, if I don’t lose myself to it without him._

Hiccup could feel himself slipping away, could feel his body’s urges taking over, this part of himself that he hated rearing its monstrous head. This part of him didn’t care who it was he was with, or what the gender of the person was. This part of him was greedy, wanting everything, wanting satisfaction. It didn’t care if it was a man or a woman, a friend or an enemy. All it wanted was sex and nothing else mattered.

He pulled his hand away from Toothless, shook his head a little, trying to tamp it back down. He closed his eyes and gripped the blankets hard, hands shaking.

“Hiccup? Is everything okay? What’s wrong?”

“I’m…” He didn’t know how to answer. He didn’t even know who’d spoken to him, a haze falling over him, his mind being drowned by that beast inside of him. That awful thing wanted them to touch him, wanted them to pleasure him, but he knew he couldn’t ask for that. It wasn’t right. “You should go.”

“What? Hiccup, if you’re not okay-”

“No, go. Just please go.” It came out as a desperate whimper. “ _Please._ ”

“Alright. Just, um, send Toothless to get us if you need anything.”

Hiccup nodded. The faster he agreed with them the faster they would leave, and once they were gone he could take care of what he needed to.

His empty plate was taken from his bed, and then the two of them quietly left. Hiccup was shaking with restraint, but he managed to get out: “Toothless, go downstairs.”

He didn’t sense Toothless move, so he opened his eyes to look at him. His friend was giving him a worried look.

“Please, Toothless. I’m okay. Just go downstairs.”

Toothless still didn’t move, and Hiccup had to try very hard not to yell at him. Yelling at Toothless was the last thing he wanted to do. He didn’t want to hurt him.

“Go downstairs, bud. I’ll be alright.”

Finally, Toothless listened, getting up and going to the edge of the loft before jumping off.

Hiccup moved as quickly as his wounds would allow him after that, desperate, frenzied. The blankets came off of him, then his clothes, and though it had been his own hands that had done it, part of him felt that it was Dagur, and at the moment he was perfectly okay with that. He _wanted_ Dagur. Dagur wouldn’t hesitate to take him, to give him what he needed. They both needed it, needed each other.

He moaned when he touched himself. He didn’t care that Toothless would hear. He’d already heard him and Astrid before, knew what kinds of sounds he made when he was doing this. He’d know he wasn’t in trouble.

He closed his eyes, running his other hand over the front of his body. He wanted the bandages to be gone, wanted to feel skin touching him even if it was just his own. He began playing with his right nipple, and the sensation made him buck into his hand. It hurt his hips but he didn’t care, moving into his own quick, fierce strokes. He let himself be loud, let his voice come out of him with no control.

This was good, satisfying, but also not enough. He wanted a body pressed against his, hot and heavy - wanted a mouth on him, sucking, kissing, teeth grazing - fingers in his hair, pulling - hands running all over him before dipping between his legs - fingers penetrating and searching, finding that spot where he wanted to be touched the most and massaging it - a cock, nice and thick, Dagur’s - pushing into him, thrusting, taking him, _owning_ him - _Dagur’s_ body against his, _Dagur’s_ mouth on his neck, _Dagur’s_ hands trailing all over, _Dagur_ claiming what was already his, Dagur, Dagur…

“ _Dagur…_ ” He couldn’t keep his name from passing his lips as he came. There was just no helping it. He arched and gasped and cried out, reaching desperately for the peak of his pleasure, because he knew it could be better than this. He’d experienced better than this.

But then it was over and he went slack, sweating, gasping for breath. Through the buzzing bliss that encased him, he could feel his other self returning, his rational, Dagur-hating, touch-repulsed self, but he kept his hand near his cock, knowing that he wasn’t truly done yet, that he’d need another orgasm before he could relax and go back to being at least semi-human.

In his mind, Dagur was still all over him, kissing him, touching him, and he wanted it so bad that a whine left him. His other self retreated from the ghosts of hands touching him, once again relinquishing full control to the animal inside.

He stroked himself slower this time, trying to savor it. It felt splendid after one orgasm already, and he never wanted it to stop. He wanted to die like this, wanted the pleasure to reach a peak so impossible that it killed him. He didn’t know why he wanted to die, but he did.

He reached his other hand down, massaged his balls before going lower and rubbing at the spot below them. He so desperately wanted that spot to be touched from the inside, wanted Dagur’s fingers or his cock to be stimulating it. He wanted to lift his legs and stick his fingers in himself, but he knew that would hurt his hips too much. And besides, he probably wouldn’t be able to reach all the way anyway.

He tilted his head back, moaned louder than he had before, and in his head Dagur praised him:

_“Good boy. That’s it.”_

“Dagur, _please._ ” He wanted him there, wanted him on him and in him, wanted to be connected to him.

_“That’s it, Hiccup. Beg for Dagur.”_

Something about hearing his name, even if it was just in his head, shoved this animal away so hard that he jolted and gasped and opened his eyes. He even stopped.

Hiccup lifted his head, looked down at himself, shaking, feeling like he’d been doused in ice water.

_What am I doing? Why am I thinking about Dagur? Why am I even doing this? It’s not right. It’s not. I shouldn’t want this. I shouldn’t…_

Hiccup’s hand didn’t seem to care, as it resumed stroking. He let out a breathless moan, tried pulling his hand away, but he couldn’t. He had to finish first.

Hiccup lowered his head back down, blinking away tears, a lump in his throat.

“Damn you, Dagur. Damn you.”

In response to that he heard laughter, cruel and maniacal. He knew it wasn’t real, but:

“Go to Niflheim. Get the fuck out of my head.”

There was no response to that, though Hiccup knew it hadn’t truly worked, that the Dagur that was plaguing his mind would return. It was fitting really. He didn’t just own his body; he owned his mind now too.

Hiccup let out a loud sob with his second orgasm, allowing his tears to fall freely. Only then was he able to pull his hands away. He wanted to cry hard, wanted to scream, wanted to hit something, _someone_ , _Dagur_ , but he didn’t have the energy to do anything but lie there and let out hoarse, broken sobs.

It wasn’t long before the loft shook and there was a concerned cooing noise growing closer to his bed. Hiccup rolled away, putting his back to Toothless, not wanting him to see him like this.

“I-I’m o-o-okay,” he spluttered. “J-just go- go back d-downstairs.”

Toothless didn’t make a move other than coming closer. Hiccup could feel his breath on his back. Then there was a nose touching him, touching the scars, and Toothless let out a mournful lowing sound. Hiccup didn’t like the touch, didn’t want it even though he kept telling himself it was a dragon and not a person. He moved away from it, wincing at the extra pain it caused his hip, hoping Toothless wouldn’t feel too rejected by the movement.

“T-Toothless, _please_ g-go…”

He heard Toothless move away from the bed, but he didn’t leave the loft. Hiccup wasn’t going to be able to get rid of him, and really, he didn’t want to. He just didn’t want his dragon seeing him like this. He sat up, then looked down at the stump of his left leg. He wished he had his prosthetic. His dad hadn’t explained why he’d taken it, but Hiccup figured he knew the reason. He didn’t want him walking around, knew that he would despite Gothi’s orders to rest.

He lowered himself onto the floor, and the movement hurt him, emotionally more than it did physically. He’d have to crawl. He’d thought being home would return his humanity to him, but where was it now?

Trying not to think about what he was doing, still letting out tiny sobs and whimpering noises, Hiccup crawled over to one of his chests to get a cloth to clean himself off with. He wanted a bath, wanted the water to be so hot that it burned away his skin. He wanted to hurt, especially after what he’d just done. He’d lost to that other version of himself, lost to Dagur and what he’d done to him.

Sitting naked on the floor and cleaning his own seed off of himself, Hiccup wondered when his humanity would return to him, and if it would stay when it finally did.

 

Toothless waited a few moments before coming around the side of the bed. He was confused, hurting. Why did Hiccup not want him around, and what had happened to his back? He’d seen Hiccup without clothes before, and he knew that his back hadn’t always looked like that, that those were scars on him. Dagur had hurt him. It had to have been Dagur. He smelled too much like him, their scents so heavily intertwined it was hard to pick one from the other. The mixing of scents was comparable to how Hiccup smelled after he and Astrid mated, but the scent was Dagur’s instead of Astrid’s. He figured that meant that Dagur had mated with him. This didn’t sit well with Toothless. Dagur was an enemy and he hated him, especially now after he’d taken Hiccup from him for so long, and he’d seen how Hiccup had reacted to his touches, how he’d flinched and cringed. Hiccup had told him about it too, had told him what he thought Dagur wanted with him and that he didn’t want it back, that it scared him.

Toothless found Hiccup sitting on the floor, his head in his hands, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. The sight of him made Toothless even more concerned for his well being, and curious as to what had happened while he’d been away. He was smaller than he was used to, thin, bones showing through his skin. Bandages were wrapped around his lower abdomen, and Toothless wondered what they covered. On his left side, a large, puckered scar ran out from under the bandages. It was bigger than the ones on his back.

Toothless rumbled his concern at him, came over and nuzzled him in the shoulder. Hiccup flinched at the touch, and Toothless drew back, tilted his head. This wasn’t like him. Usually Hiccup showed his affection for him by returning his touches, not shying away from them.

“Hiccup?”

Hiccup said nothing in response, didn’t even lift his head, though he must have known that Toothless had said his name. They didn’t speak the same language, but they understood a lot of what they told each other.

Toothless gave up speaking to him for the moment, continued looking him over. There were more scars in his right thigh, in a strange pattern that looked like what the humans called writing. On his chest was a shape Toothless was familiar with, and he almost growled at seeing it. That was the shape Dagur had on his sails. That shape didn’t mean anything good. Was that a scar too? It looked different than the other ones on him, raised up and more of a reddish-brown color than a pink. Was it possible for it to come off?

Without preamble, Toothless stuck his head between Hiccup’s elbows and licked at it. Hiccup jolted and yelped in surprise.

“Toothless, what are you doing?!”

Toothless licked it again, but with the same result. The shape stayed on him, not even a little smeared by his attention to it, and it tasted like Hiccup. So it was a part of him, another scar probably.

He pulled his head back, looked at Hiccup mournfully. He knew it was Hiccup. It had to be. He had the same face and voice and some of his scent was still there, but he was acting different from Hiccup, and his body didn’t look like Hiccup’s either.

“Bud, that…” Hiccup wiped away tears with one hand, then looked down at the shape in his chest. “That doesn’t come off.”

Hiccup didn’t seem happy that this was on him either. What did it mean? Why had Dagur done it to him? How much had it hurt him?

That last thought made Toothless angry. Dagur had hurt his best friend and rider. _Dagur_ had _hurt_ him. He very suddenly wished that Dagur was there, just so he could blast him to pieces. Maybe it would make Hiccup feel better if he did that.

Toothless pressed his nose against his face, and Hiccup closed his eyes, turned his head away from him.

“Come on, Hiccup, don’t shut me out.”

“I-I’m sorry, Toothless. I’m sorry.” He said something else after that, something Toothless didn’t understand.

Toothless didn’t understand why he didn’t want him to touch him. He had let him do it earlier. He tried it again, put his nose back against his face.

“It’s okay. I’m not Dagur.”

This time, Hiccup didn’t move away, and Toothless heard him take a deep breath before he reached up a hand and put it to his face. Toothless smiled at it, but Hiccup didn’t see the expression, eyes still closed.

“Can you help me up, Toothless?”

“Of course I can.”

At his answer, Hiccup put his arms around him, and Toothless stood, drawing him up with him. Once standing on his one foot, Hiccup leaned heavily on him. He said something that involved the word “bed”, so Toothless made his way slowly over to it, Hiccup hopping along beside, grunting with pain at the movement. Then he sat down, but he didn’t let go of Toothless. Instead, he pressed his head to his.

“I’m sorry, bud. I’m sorry I’m acting so strange. I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad you’re here too.”

For long moments they just stayed like that, breathing together, reveling in being with each other again and being able to touch each other. Toothless wanted to stay like that forever, feeling starved for Hiccup’s touch. He’d missed him so much that it had caused a real pain that had grown with every day that he hadn’t been there. He’d begun to grow afraid that he’d never see him again, but here he was, holding him.

Eventually, they pulled away from each other, and Hiccup quietly asked Toothless to get his clothes for him. He did, picking them up in his mouth and bringing them back over. Hiccup thanked him and began to dress. Toothless let him lean on him when he had to stand to pull his pants all the way up. Then his shirt was on, and Toothless found himself grateful that he was clothed. Usually he didn’t mind, didn’t care, but clothes hid his scars, and he didn’t want to look at them anymore. For the moment he just wanted to pretend that nothing had changed, and that Hiccup was okay.

 

The art below is done by [minatoiskyuubismate!](http://minatoiskyuubismate.tumblr.com/)


	82. Chapter 81

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Some serious thought of self-harm in this chapter.

Astrid was anxious to see Hiccup, but she decided to talk to Stoick first. Maybe he knew more about how he wanted to be treated than she did. She wondered how it had gone with him, how Hiccup was doing now, if he had Toothless with him.

The walk to Stoick’s hut took longer than it should have, as she was stopped by multiple people who wanted news. She didn’t know what to tell them other than Hiccup was okay, and they seemed to be able to tell that she was lying, but they didn’t press her further. Astrid was sure that none of these people knew what Dagur’s intentions with Hiccup had been, what he’d captured him for, and she hoped they would never know. That was personal information that wasn’t for them.

Stoick shouted upon her knock at the door.

“I’m busy! If it’s more of you wanting to know about Hiccup, go away!”

Astrid withdrew a little in shock, not having expected such an angry response. Though, it made sense given that he was apparently being bothered about Hiccup’s state as well.

“Chief, it’s Astrid!”

There was silence, and as time passed Astrid began to wonder if she should just go, but then the door opened. Stoick looked haggard and tired, eyes red-rimmed like he’d been crying, but she didn’t want to think that he had been.

“Come in, lass.” His voice was much more gentle, and he stepped aside to allow her entry. “Sit down.”

She took a seat at the table, looked around briefly. Stoick’s hut was bare, without decoration, but it made sense. He had come to Dragon’s Edge out of necessity rather than choice, and the housing was temporary. She figured they’d probably all be going back to Berk soon.

Stoick sat down across from her, heavily. 

“So I’m assuming Dagur’s not dead.”

“We don’t think he is,” Astrid told him. She clenched her hands into fists. She wanted to punch that man until his skull caved in. “Heather stabbed him, but she said it probably wasn’t life threatening. How did you know that? Did Hiccup tell you?”

“He didn’t. He just-” Stoick stopped himself rather suddenly, as if he’d thought better about what he was going to say. “The way he was talking made it sound like he was still alive.”

“How is he?”

Stoick shook his head, then lowered it into one hand, avoiding her gaze. “I don’t know, Astrid. He’s… he’s not himself. Dagur… Dagur ruined him.”

Astrid swallowed hard. It was difficult seeing her chief like this, hearing him say what she had taken a long while to admit. Dagur _had_ ruined Hiccup.

“Is there anything in particular I should know? Did he say how he wants to be treated?”

Stoick sighed heavily, lowered his hand. He lifted his head, as if to look at her, but then turned it to look at the wall instead. “He didn’t really say. I don’t think he knows. Just don’t…” Another sigh, the release of air tired, sad. “Just don’t touch him unless he _explicitly_ states that you can.” He looked her in the eye now, his gaze commanding. 

Astrid nodded. “I understand.”

“You have to hear the words directly from him that it’s okay,” Stoick stressed.

“I get it. I already figured that.”

“Okay.” Stoick seemed to relax a little. “And even if he does allow it, make sure you ask him. He probably won’t tell you if he’s uncomfortable. He doesn’t…” His voice choked up and he lowered his head. “He doesn’t know that it’s okay to say what he wants and doesn’t want. He doesn’t know it’s okay to say no.”

Astrid felt like she’d been punched in the chest. “He doesn’t?”

“No. I tried explaining it to him but I don’t know how much of it got through. H-he was baffled when he told me to not touch him and I listened. He told me those words don’t mean anything.”

It was Astrid’s turn to look at the table. She felt tears stinging in her eyes but she blinked them away. It was hard to fathom how much Hiccup’s mind had changed during his captivity. The Hiccup she had known before had understood what all that had meant, had known that he had boundaries that if expressed most others would adhere to. It made sense that that had been erased though. Dagur hadn’t paid any attention to his boundaries. How many times had it been before Hiccup gave up on telling him to stop? Of course he thought that words like that didn’t mean anything. They hadn’t to Dagur. 

“I know you two were together before all this happened,” Stoick went on, “but you’ll have to give it some time. We all have to be patient with him.”

Astrid nodded. Their relationship had been on her mind, and she was planning on telling him about Heather. Would he not want a relationship after knowing that? Did he even want one in general? It was clear Dagur had ruined the notion of love for him too, but hopefully that would only be temporary.

“Is Toothless with him?” she asked. That was important. Astrid figured that Toothless was the only reason Hiccup had come back with them, that if Toothless hadn’t been here he would have given into despair and finished what Dagur had thankfully interrupted. She still didn’t know how she felt about that. She wondered if Stoick knew, if he’d questioned him about the bruises on his neck.

“Aye.” There was a smile in Stoick’s words, and when Astrid looked back to him she saw it on his lips as well. “I didn’t see the reunion, but I heard him laugh. I was so afraid I wouldn’t hear him laugh again.”

Astrid had it in herself to smile a little. That was a sound she hadn’t heard yet, one she hoped to hear soon. Hiccup would probably be in a better mood now that he had Toothless with him. She stood.

“Well, I’m gonna go see him. He didn’t say anything about not wanting visitors, did he?”

Stoick stood as well, went to the door and opened it for her. “No. I think it’ll be alright if you see him. Snotlout and Tuffnut might actually still be there.”

“Snotlout and Tuffnut?”

Stoick shrugged. “He asked for them first. Seemed pretty odd, but who am I to deny him what he wants right now?”

“I mean, they were the ones to find him,” Astrid reasoned.

Stoick nodded at this, now seeming to understand. Astrid wasn’t sure what made sense to him about that, but she decided not to question him on it, instead said her goodbyes and left. She was eager to know how Hiccup was doing that morning, eager to talk to him. She hoped he was up for it.

 

Hiccup lay on his back in bed with Toothless’ head across his legs. He hadn’t said anything to him, hadn’t told him of what had happened. He just idly stroked one hand over the top of his head and stared at the ceiling. He felt bad for having to kick out Tuffnut and Snotlout, felt bad for what he’d done after that. It left a strange itchiness under his skin, one that seemed would only go away with the cut of a knife. It was a strange urge after experiencing pain nearly every day. He felt like he would have wanted to not have pain, but he felt like he needed it, felt like he had to punish himself for giving in. 

He couldn’t do that though. Toothless wouldn’t allow him to. So, instead of cutting himself, he drew his hand away from Toothless, rolled up his sleeve, and pinched hard at the underside of his forearm. It hurt a little, but not nearly enough. Only blood would do. 

He continued pinching himself anyway, hoping that maybe it would relieve some of what he was feeling.

Hiccup was pulled from his thoughts by a knock on his door. He pulled his hand away from his arm and rolled his sleeve back down, then pushed himself into a sitting position, hips protesting the motion.

“Yeah, come in!” He wondered who was visiting him, and he found his muscles tensing, found fear beginning to pump his heart faster. Part of him expected Dagur to walk through that door and ascend the stairs. Of course it would be Dagur. Dagur was the only one he had in his life, the only one who cared about him.

The door opened, then shut. 

“Hiccup, it’s me.”

_Astrid._

Relief swept through him briefly before anxiety clutched at him again. What did she want to talk to him about? Why was she visiting?

“C-come on up.” He had tried to keep himself from stuttering, but to no avail. Toothless lifted his head, gave him a worried look, and he just pet him on the head. 

_It’s Astrid. Just Astrid. She’s not going to hurt me._

Astrid came up the stairs, and Hiccup made himself smile when he saw her. She returned the expression, but her smile was real. 

“Can I sit?” she asked, pointing to the chair that Tuffnut had vacated.

Hiccup nodded. He didn’t say anything as Astrid came over, turned the chair around to face him, and sat. He looked at her, but not at her eyes. He couldn’t. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Better now that I have Toothless.” Hiccup looked at him, scratched his head, and Toothless warbled happily. That was certainly true. “Just wish I could go flying with him.” He craved that desperately, craved the feeling of Toothless underneath him, nothing but the sky around him and the cold air on his face. “But I’ll have to rebuild the saddle and tailfin first, and that’s _after_ Gothi thinks it’ll be okay. She put me on three weeks of bedrest.”

“How come?”

“Dagur, he-” Hiccup realized he’d said his name, and it made his throat feel like it was closing up. He drew in a deep breath to combat the feeling. He didn’t exactly want to tell Astrid, but at the same time the words were pressing at him, desperate to be spoken and heard. “H-he fractured my hips.”

“ _What?_ How?”

“He, uh, usually held me too hard when he was, um…” There was no reason for him to finish that. “And I guess after a while it started to cause damage, but he kept doing it and-” He just shrugged. “Now here I am stuck in bed.”

“Well, once you’re not stuck in bed anymore, you won’t have to make a new saddle and tailfin,” Astrid told him. “Gobber already did.”

Hiccup looked back to her, briefly met her eyes before remembering that he probably shouldn’t. He smiled, and it was real. “He did?”

“Yeah. Granted, you’ll probably want to make a few changes to it, make it more your own.”

“Oh, that’s awesome!” Hiccup exclaimed. “I just want to fly again, have things be more normal, you know?”

“Yeah…” Astrid sounded a little uncomfortable when she said it, and she looked down, shifted in her seat. “Hiccup, there’s something I have to tell you.”

His heart fell. “What? What is it?” Now he wanted her to look at him, wanted to meet her gaze and see what was there. 

“Um, well, while you were gone…” She blew out a long breath, looked towards the wall. “Heather and I, we kind of- we’re kind of a thing.”

Hiccup didn’t know what to say to this, hadn’t been expecting it. He’d known about Astrid’s attraction to women - what came as a shock was that he hadn’t thought that she would start a relationship with someone else while he was gone, but he couldn’t feel anger at it. It made sense. She’d probably begun to think that she’d never see him again, and she’d gone to look for comfort in someone else. It didn’t really hurt him. If anything he felt a little bit of relief. She wouldn’t be expecting a relationship from him, wouldn’t be expecting them to just go back to the way they had been. Besides, who would want him like that anyway? He wasn’t worth it.

“Oh.”

Astrid looked to him. “Oh? That’s all you have to say?” Her words were quick, anxious, and her brow was furrowed.

“Yeah. I mean, that doesn’t really bother me. I…” Hiccup trailed off. He’d been about to tell her about Bryn, been about to tell her that he’d had a relationship separate from her as well, but he couldn’t. Thinking of her hurt too much, never mind actually talking about her. “It makes sense. I’m not jealous, I’m not angry.”

“You’re not?”

“No.” _And besides, why would you want me anyway?_ He almost wanted to voice that out loud, but kept it to himself.

“There’s more to it though. I still… I still like you.”

“Okay, and...?” Hiccup wasn’t sure where she was going with this.

“I still-” She sighed. “I don’t want to say love you because I know that freaks you out, but I still feel romantically towards you. None of that ever changed. Heather was just… added on to it.”

“So you lo-” the word died on his tongue- “like two people at once?”

Astrid nodded. “I know it sounds stupid, and it seems selfish to want both of you, but I can’t change how I feel.”

Hiccup looked away from her, towards Toothless, who had been silent the whole conversation. He had his eyes closed like he was sleeping. Now he didn’t know what he was feeling. The relief had left him. Astrid still did want a relationship with him. He did too, wanted everything to just go back to normal, and normal meant he and Astrid as a couple, but he didn’t understand that. She knew what Dagur had done. Why did she still want him after that?

 _Besides, it’s illegal._ Astrid would have no way of knowing that though, and he wasn’t about to tell her. He did still like her, did still feel for her in that way, but it couldn’t happen.

“Hiccup?”

“So you’d want to be dating both of us?”

“Yes.”

“And how does Heather feel about it?”

“She’s fine with it.”

Hiccup didn’t say anything for a long while, found himself staring intently at Toothless’ scales and following the pattern they made on him.

“Why me?”

“What?”

“Why… why do you want me like that?” Hiccup stroked Toothless’ head and he snorted a little, a sign that he was still awake. “You know what he did to me. You know what he used me for.”

“But that wasn’t your choice, Hiccup.”

“So you don’t think I’m tainted?” He glanced back at her, actually met her eyes, and they weren’t judgmental, but compassionate.

“No.”

“But I am.” Hiccup was baffled. How could no one see the truth of that? How could no one see that he _was_ tainted, that he was _befouled?_ He had been desecrated and no one seemed to understand. “Astrid, why would you want me like that? Why would you want to kiss me when the last lips I kissed were his?” He almost went on, almost got more detailed, almost told her about the times it had been switched around and _he’d_ been inside Dagur.

“Because it wasn’t your choice, Hiccup. What he did isn’t your fault.” There was a hint of desperation in her voice, in her eyes.

“Fine, if you don’t think what he did is enough to taint me, then how about what _I_ did?” Hiccup put his hand to his chest. “ _I_ kissed him back when he kissed me.”

“Hiccup, it’s alright. He made you.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I did it. It doesn’t change the fact that I did… other things.” He looked away from her, shook his head. “You probably think most of it was just him holding me down and fucking me, but that’s not all that it was. I did things for him. I became his perfect little _slut_.” He said the words with such disdain; they felt like they were burning on his tongue. He felt anger, but he didn’t know what for. “Is that who you want for a boyfriend, Astrid? You want _Dagur’s whore?_ ”

“Hiccup, you’re not his… you’re not his whore.”

Hiccup laughed at that, but it was sharp, cynical. “Oh, no, I really am.”

“Hiccup, you’re not! You’re free now!”

Hiccup laughed harder at that, at hearing the word free, laughed so hard it hurt his ribs. Toothless stirred, lifted his head and gave him a questioning look. “Oh, that’s a good one, Astrid!”

“Hiccup, what the Hel are you laughing about? This isn’t some kind of joke! You’re free from him! Do you not realize that?” He sensed her stand, come over to the side of the bed.

Hiccup shrieked out a laugh, or maybe he just shrieked. Free. _Free._ What a ridiculous word. What was it even supposed to mean, anyway? He doubled over, clutching at his ribs, sobbing now, from a mixture of dark mirth and pain. He wasn’t free, and Astrid was going on like he was. He didn’t even know how he was crying again, how he had any tears left in him. He felt weak for crying, wanted it to stop. But now he couldn’t. He was hurting, hurting badly, and Astrid didn’t understand why.

“I-I’m not f-free, Astrid. N-not free.”

“Hiccup, what are you going on about? Of course you’re free. You’re home. You’re away from him.”

Hiccup violently shook his head. “C-can’t be free un-unless h-he’s dead.”

“Look, I want him dead too, but just because he’s still alive doesn’t mean you’re not free.”

Hiccup shouted wordlessly in pure frustration, and Toothless made a sound of alarm. “Y-you don’t get it, Astrid! You don’t get it!”

“Then help me get it. Please.”

“Fine!” He hadn’t wanted to show her, but there didn’t seem to be any other way to convince her. He found himself pulling his shirt off with such violence that he almost tore it. Then he straightened, pointed at the brand. “ _Look_ , Astrid! _Look!_ ”

Astrid’s jaw had fallen open in horror, color draining from her face. Her mouth moved, as if she wanted to speak, but nothing came out. Then his name left her mouth, utterly heartbroken.

“See?! I’m _not_ free! I can’t be unless he’s dead!” Then Hiccup thought of something else, remembered how Viggo said he would cut it off of him if he owned him. “O-or we could cut it off.” He looked down at it, ran his hand over the shape of it. “Y-yeah, we could cut it off.” Just like that he’d stopped crying. He sniffled, wiped his face on his sleeve, looked back to Astrid, whose eyes were wide with shock and concern. “Do you have your knife on you?”

“Hiccup, that would hurt you.” Her words were hard.

“And I really don’t see a problem with that.” Hiccup looked to her belt, saw her knife sheathed there. He held out his hand for it. “Give me your knife.”

Astrid drew it, and Hiccup’s breath hitched with anticipation. He waited for her to put it in his hand. With it he could free himself. He could cut it off of himself and-

She threw it behind her where it landed, clattering, on the other side of the room. Hiccup looked to it, hopes falling. He’d never be able to get to it with the state he was in.

“Astrid-”

“No.” She sat down on the bed. “Hiccup, you can’t do that to yourself. We have to talk about this.”

He shook his head. “No. Go get the knife.”

“Hiccup, I’m not going to let you hurt yourself.” She reached out to put her hand on his shoulder, but stopped herself. Hiccup studied her hand, decided he would be okay with it right now, that he needed physical comfort.

“You can touch me,” he told her, but then the words brought panic. What if she thought that was permission to touch him anywhere she wanted? What if she thought she was allowed to touch him sexually? She laid her hand on his shoulder, but that was all she did.

“Are you sure this is okay?”

“Yeah.”

Astrid sighed. “Look, Hiccup. You can’t do that to yourself. We’ll kill him and then you’ll be free, alright?”

“But it’ll still be on me,” Hiccup mumbled. He was thinking of his leg now too, of Dagur’s name etched into his skin. “I don’t want it on me. I hate it.”

“I know. I-I hate it too.” There were tears welling in her eyes and she used her other hand to wipe them away. “I-I’m so sorry he did that to you, Hiccup, but we can fix it. We can fix it by killing him.”

Hiccup took her hand, planning on just shoving it away from him, but once he was holding it he didn’t want to let go. He wanted to argue some more, but he could see that there would be no arguing with her on the subject. The brand would be staying on him.

Oddly, he found himself bringing her hand down to the brand so that her palm lay flat against it. It was strange to feel someone other than Dagur touching it, to feel a hand that was smaller than his, but it felt good as well. It was Astrid’s hand.

“I’m…” He didn’t know what to say now, but then he thought back to their earlier conversation. “I can’t be with you because of this, Astrid. It’s illegal.” 

“Doesn’t matter. It was illegal for him to do this to you to begin with. And you’re not with him anymore. He can’t punish you for it.”

“But he can still kill you.”

“Dagur pretty much wants to kill everyone. I don’t think that makes me special.”

“I guess.” He let go of her hand, but she still kept it pressed against the brand. Then she moved it, began feeling along the ridges of it with her fingers.

“Hiccup, this is a part of you, alright?”

“I-I know that.” He knew that it was permanent. Unless… His eyes went back over to the knife, but the thought quickly died. No one was going to let him do that. “But that doesn’t mean it’s a good part of me. It’s ugly and awful. It’s made me worthless.”

“Hiccup, you’re not worthless.” Astrid’s voice was soft.

“I am. I don’t understand how you still can’t see that, how you _still_ want to be with me. Haven’t I given you enough proof that I’m not worth it? I can certainly give you more.”

“Hiccup, do you not want to be with me?” Her hand fell away from him. His skin was tingling in the aftermath of her touch, wanting more of it.

“I do. I think I do. I just- I can’t understand why I matter to you, why I matter to any of you.”

Astrid’s tears slid free at his words, and she didn’t move to wipe them away. Hiccup found himself doing it for her. 

“Hiccup, you matter to all of us. You matter to me. What he’s done to you doesn’t change that.”

“I don’t get it though. He told me that I wouldn’t matter to you.”

“Remember what Heather said? You have to get the things he told you out of your head. He was brainwashing you.”

“I thought he was just telling the truth.” More tears fell, and Hiccup wiped them away again. He didn’t want Astrid to cry for his sake. “A lot of things he told me were- _are_ true.”

“What kinds of things?”

Hiccup looked away from her, couldn’t bare to look at her with his next words. “That I belong to him, that I’m a slut, I’m a whore, that I deserved it whenever he hurt me.”

“Why would you deserve for him to hurt you?”

“I tried escaping,” he told her. “And I wasn’t supposed to do that. I belong to him. I shouldn’t have tried to get away from him. I shouldn’t even be away from him now.” He held in the fact that part of him wanted to be with him, that none of this made sense and that Dagur was the only thing that made sense to him anymore. He couldn’t leave Toothless though. No, he’d take Toothless with him, make absolutely sure that he was treated right. He could get things from Dagur, and Toothless’ protection would be one of them.

“But, Hiccup, he took you from us first.” 

Astrid’s words brought him back to reality, made him realize where his thoughts had gone. He shivered a little at it. Those weren’t good thoughts. He was supposed to be with Dagur, but he couldn’t go back to him.

“Never mind about all that.” He figured that if they continued on this topic he’d end up telling her about his partial want to go back to him, and he didn’t want to do that. She wouldn’t trust him if he did. No one would trust him. He wouldn’t be allowed to leave, wouldn’t be allowed to fly Toothless when he was feeling up for it. He grabbed his shirt, pulled it back on. It was a novelty to just be able to put clothes on himself whenever he wanted.

Astrid was silent for a time, no longer looking at him. She picked at the blanket. "Can I ask you why you believe those other things?"

"Well, because, um, because it's true." 

"What do you mean?"

Could Hiccup really tell Astrid about his addiction to sex, just like that? Was it that easy? "I, uh..." He didn't know how to word it. "B-because I want sex. And not just a normal amount. I want it a lot. Almost constantly." It felt strange saying it, admitting it, but then he realized he had to clear something up. "But, not _me_ , really. It's almost like there's two me's: me, right now, the one who's talking to you, and then there's this- this other me." He knew it sounded absolutely crazy, but that was what it felt like. It felt like there were two versions of himself with different wants living in the same body.

"Two Hiccup's?" Astrid asked. Hiccup waited for her to call him crazy, to shun him, but that was all she said, giving him room to speak.

"Yeah. I know. It's insane, but-"

"I never said it was insane."

"I know you didn't." He found himself reaching for her hand again. It felt good to hold it, comforting, _innocent_. He'd forgotten what innocence felt like. "It's just... I don't know how to explain it.”

“How about you tell me about each one. What’s this Hiccup like, the one I’m talking to?”

“He’s… I’m… I’m the more logical one.” Hiccup looked down at their hands. He’d thought he’d never hold Astrid’s hand like this again, but here he was. “I think. Maybe too much. I’m usually touch-repulsed. I hate Dagur and want to kill him. Oh, and I’m only sexually attracted to women. I think… I think this one’s the real me, and the other is just a product of what happened.”

“So what’s the other Hiccup like?” Astrid’s questions were patient, and he could feel how intently she was listening to him, trying to understand.

Hiccup’s stomach clenched with guilt thinking about it. That other Hiccup was still him, was a part of him. He lived in him, and was suppressed for the time being. He didn’t like that Hiccup, didn’t want him to exist. 

“He’s the one who’s addicted to sex. And he doesn’t give a damn about gender or who it is. He-I- _shit_ , this is so confusing!” Hiccup clutched at his head with his free hand. He was surprised he wasn’t getting a headache from this. “It’s still me! That other one is still me. I just don’t want him to be me. That one- I- he wants Dagur. I hate him. I hate _myself_. Gods, Astrid, I just hate myself _so much_. I hate myself because I shouldn’t _want_ any of this. I shouldn’t want sex so bad, but I do. I should be repulsed by it, and I-I am, but he’s not, and…” Hiccup trailed off, beginning to confuse himself with his own words. He yanked his hand away from Astrid’s, becoming hyper-aware of her touch, of the way her skin felt against his own. He put his head in his hands, saving himself from having to look at her. Toothless cooed softly and nuzzled the side of his face in an attempt to comfort him. He ignored it.

“Hiccup, please don’t hate yourself.”

“Well I can’t like myself either…”

"Would it help to know that no one else hates you?"

"How can you not hate me?"

Astrid sighed heavily. "Hiccup, is there going to be any getting through to you?"

Hiccup lowered his hands from his face, but just looked at them in his lap. "Why do you have to get through to me? Maybe I'm right and I have to get through to you."

"What are you right about then?"

"I'm right about being worthless, but you all still want me for some reason. How do I prove to you that I'm nothing if you saw my brand and still think I'm something?" Hiccup didn't get it, didn't get it all. Dagur had told him the brand had made him nothing to everyone save for him, and it should have, but they weren't treating him differently, weren't treating him like he was nothing. It didn't occur to him that maybe Dagur was wrong. Even without Dagur he'd known what branding had meant, what it did to a person, what it took from them.

"And how do I prove to you that you're not nothing?"

Hiccup just shrugged. Their views were conflicting and he didn't know how to bridge them.

"Well, can I prove to you that I still want you?"

Hiccup looked at her, raised his eyebrows. "How would you do that?" He almost asked why she would still want him, why she would want to prove such a thing to him, but that would just take the conversation in more circles than it had already gone in.

Astrid's cheeks flushed a little. "I was thinking I could kiss you. Would you be okay with that?"

Hiccup thought for a moment. Would he be okay with that? Why was Astrid okay with that? The last person he'd kissed had been Dagur, and now his lips were tainted from it. Why would she want to kiss something that was tainted?

 _No, no, stop thinking about that. She wants to know if the physical contact is okay._ But would it be okay? How would it feel? How would he react to it? More importantly, how would his body react? It had been about an hour since he'd... taken care of things. His body wouldn't want sex again so soon, would it?

Then Hiccup decided that the only way to find out was to just do it. He nodded.

"Are you absolutely sure?"

_No._

"Yeah."

Then Astrid leaned forward. His eyes flitted down to her lips, lips he hadn't seen or felt in such a long time. His heart beat fast and he couldn't determine if it was from fear or excitement. Perhaps it was both. He closed his eyes. He felt her breath on him. Close, so close, almost touching…

Dagur. It was Dagur who was about to kiss him, and after that he’d take his body and reclaim it as his own.

“No!” Hiccup shoved Astrid away, drew back violently. He quickly released her, gasping. He kept his eyes shut, held them there tightly, bracing himself for the blows that would land on him for saying no, for shoving her away.

They didn’t come. Hiccup warily opened one eye, found Astrid sitting in the same place as she had been before, her brow furrowed. Her hands were beside her, not in fists. Maybe she was going to slap him for it instead of punching him.

“A-aren’t you gonna hit me?” He had both eyes open now, to watch her carefully.

“Hiccup, why would I hit you?” she asked in clear confusion.

“B-because…” The words died on his tongue. He didn’t know how to explain. And why wasn’t she hitting him? He’d denied her, and that wasn’t something he was supposed to do.

“Are you thinking I’m going to hit you because he hit you whenever you said no?”

Hiccup nodded.

“No one else is going to do that to you, Hiccup,” she told him. Her eyes were sad. Why were they sad?

“They’re not?”

Astrid shook her head. “No, they’re not. You’re allowed to say no to things.”

 _I am?_ “I mean, yeah, yeah. Of course I am.” Hiccup forced himself into a more relaxed position. He didn’t want Astrid to feel sad, and it was clear that the things he said were causing it. He’d just have to hide his confusion on the matter for now. But still: “Sorry for not letting you kiss me.” He reached out for Toothless with both hands, and the dragon put his head between them, letting Hiccup hold him.

“Hiccup, you have to want it too. I’m not gonna kiss you unless you want me to.”

“And, I do… sort of.” Hiccup shrugged. “It’s hard to explain.” He didn’t know how to tell her that when he’d closed his eyes and felt her near him, he’d forgotten where he was and she’d become Dagur. He wondered if maybe he kept his eyes open it would work, but something about kissing with his eyes open felt strange.

Silence fell, and Hiccup felt exhaustion in the wake of it. He wasn’t used to seeing so many people, wasn’t used to sharing what he was feeling and trying to sort it out. He realized that, though he’d felt a lot while with Dagur, he’d kept most of it repressed or to himself. His feelings hadn’t been so internalized with Bryn around and he’d been able to open up to her, but without her he’d been left alone with all of it and hadn’t been able to do anything but let it torment him. He was realizing that letting it out was a new kind of torment though, different from staying silent. He wondered if he’d ever be free from it, if he’d just constantly hurt like this.

“Hey, Astrid? I’m… I’m kind of tired.” It felt like a weird thing to say. It hadn’t mattered to Dagur if he’d been tired or not. Would it matter to anyone else?

“Okay. I’ll leave and let you rest then.” So… simple. Was it really that easy for people to care about what he said? She stood and smiled at him, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Just know I’m here for you if you need anything.”

She went to leave, retrieving her knife first. The brand almost seemed to throb when he looked at it. If he could just get rid of it somehow…

“Astrid?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you let Heather know that I want to talk to her later?” Hiccup figured that maybe Heather would understand how he was feeling better than anyone else. She’d had an intimate relationship with Dagur as well, albeit very different from his own. And he also wanted to talk to her about Astrid, to see if she really was fine with the idea of sharing her between the both of them. It was different from what Hiccup was used to and he didn’t even know if he could actually be in a relationship with someone, but he was still open to the idea. Heather was a good person, and Hiccup could understand why Astrid had romantic feelings for her, though he didn’t share the same feelings.

“Yeah, I’ll do that.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” Astrid lingered for a moment before descending the stairs. Hiccup wondered if maybe she was going to say goodbye to him first, or if she was waiting for him to do it. In the end, neither of them said anything else, and Hiccup was left in silence after the door closed behind her.


	83. Chapter 82

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's shorter than the ones I've been putting out recently, but that's because I didn't want to add anything else and draw focus from the scene at the end.
> 
> Also, just to provide a bit of context for a reference made later in the chapter, Muspellheim in Norse mythology is basically the realm of fire and home to the Fire Giants. Seems random now but it'll make sense when you read.

Hiccup laid down, looked up at the ceiling. He slid one hand out from under Toothless’ chin and Toothless rested his head on his legs. He wanted to sleep, to just close his eyes and drift away from everything, but he was afraid of what he’d meet when he did. Would he have nightmares and wake screaming and terrified, or have dreams about sex he couldn’t have and wake wanting it? Would he have both?

That was one thing that had been good about his captivity. He hadn’t had dreams. He’d only had to suffer in the waking world. Sleep had been an escape for him, but now it felt like he had no escape. Awake or asleep, he’d suffer, tormented by his mind, by his memories.

He was right. This version of himself really did think too much. He wished he could shut off his thinking, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t purposefully summon that other, unthinking version of himself either, and he really didn’t want to. That version was made by Dagur and it had to die.

Hiccup sighed, and Toothless raised his ears at him, knowing that he had something on his mind, ready to listen if he wanted to talk. Hiccup looked down at him.

“Do you think I should have let Astrid kiss me?”

Toothless made a noise that Hiccup knew as his _‘I don’t know.’_

“Maybe I should have. Maybe it would have helped.” Hiccup felt bad for having panicked about something so simple as a kiss. Maybe he shouldn’t have let the panic rule him. Maybe next time he should just push on through it and see what happened when he did. 

_If there is a next time._

Toothless made another noise that sounded like _‘I don’t know.’_ Hiccup didn’t know why he’d expected him to be very helpful on this topic. It was complicated, and Hiccup didn’t know if anyone could really be helpful to him.

Hiccup was now fighting to keep his eyes open. He was truly exhausted, but he didn’t want to sleep if it led to dreams. He wanted sleep, but dreamless sleep, and he doubted he would get that. He yawned, and Toothless rumbled something at him that was probably him telling him to go to sleep. 

“Toothless, if I start making noises in my sleep or something, will you wake me up?”

His friend made an affirmative sound, lifted his head to bring it to his. He touched his nose to his forehead, and Hiccup let himself close his eyes at it. It was a nice feeling, relaxing. He had Toothless here with him, and he wouldn’t leave while he was sleeping. He’d be safe. Toothless could rescue him from his dreams if he needed it.

“Thanks, bud.” 

Then Toothless put his weight back on him, and Hiccup felt comfortable enough to drift off into sleep. The only thing he was missing was someone holding him against them and breath on his neck.

 

Astrid held in her tears until she made it back to her hurt. She felt stupid for crying, felt especially stupid for crying _again_. She shouldn’t be crying over this. This wasn’t her pain. This was Hiccup’s.

Heather looked over to her when she entered the hut. She was still in her sleeping clothes, laying in bed and reading. They’d been the second people to get a mattress, as comfort was important for Heather during her pregnancy.

“Hey, Astrid, what is it? How’d it go?” She put the book down and got out of bed, went over to her and took her hands.

Astrid shook her head, not trusting her ability to speak at the moment. Then Heather took her into her arms, not asking anymore questions, and let Astrid cry against her. 

After a time, her tears slowed and she was able to speak. She didn’t pull away from Heather though. It was nice to be hugged. She’d wanted to hug Hiccup, but he wouldn’t have liked the action. She didn’t know what to tell Heather first. So many things had been said.

“So how is he?” Heather asked tentatively. “Will he be coming out of his hut anytime soon?”

“No,” Astrid answered. “He’s hurt so Gothi put him on bedrest for three weeks.”

Heather didn’t ask what his injuries were, and Astrid was okay with that. Thinking of it unnerved her. Dagur had… He’d held him hard enough to… Just thinking of the brutality Hiccup had endured made her want to start crying again, but she held it in. She drew a deep breath, pulling away from Heather.

“He thinks he’s worthless, Heather.” Astrid so desperately wanted to tell her why he thought that, wanted to tell her about the brand, but she wouldn’t. That wasn’t hers to go spreading around. “Worthless to everyone but Dagur.” 

That was what had hurt Astrid the most: seeing that thing burned into his chest. She’d never considered that Dagur would do something like that. She hadn’t realized that his obsession with Hiccup went so far as him wanting to claim him as his property, and now he’d done that, and there was no erasing it unless Dagur died. Though, Hiccup _did_ want to erase it, wanted to cut it off of himself… Astrid realized that maybe she should have searched his hut for any sharp objects and taken them from him.

“Did he say why?”

“No, but I guess Dagur told him he was.” Astrid figured that part of that was probably true, though it was mostly the brand that had done it to him. Then she realized something odd. That wasn’t solely Dagur’s crest that he had burned into him - it was Heather’s now as well. Did that mean that she technically had ownership of him? She couldn’t bring it up now though. She couldn’t tell Heather about the brand. That was Hiccup’s decision on whether or not he wanted to tell or show her. “And after three months of hearing it, it stuck.” She went and sat down on the bed, feeling drained. She hadn’t expected it to be so hard to finally have Hiccup back. 

Heather sat beside her, rubbed soothingly at her back. She didn’t say anything, waiting for Astrid to speak when she was ready.

“I did manage to talk to him about us though.”

“What’d he say?” There was tension coming off of Heather now, prickling from her skin.

“He’s fine with us being in a relationship,” Astrid told her.

“And what about the two of you?”

Astrid thought of how he’d been so adamant that she shouldn’t want him, how he’d yelled and shoved her away when she’d made to kiss him.

“He’s not sure. He’s open to the idea of sharing me and said he’s not jealous or angry. He’s just not sure that he can do a relationship right now.”

“I’m glad he’s not angry,” Heather said. “I mean, in his position, he has every right to be.” She sighed, drew her hand away. “I shouldn’t have come onto you while he was gone.”

Astrid whipped her head towards her. “Are you saying you think you took advantage of me?”

Heather simply nodded.

“Y-you didn’t. I liked you before that, Heather. I just never said anything because of Hiccup.” She took Heather’s hands in hers. “But now he said he’s okay with it. I mean, I feel bad about all that too, but it’s in the past. I swear he said it’s okay. And anyway, you can even talk to him yourself. He told me he wants to see you later.”

“Why does he want to talk to me?”

“No, but it’s probably because you’ve, you know, been with Dagur…” Astrid trailed off, feeling uncomfortable thinking about that. Heather had been with Hiccup’s rapist, her _brother_. She didn’t fault her for it, especially since she would have had no way of knowing that such a thing was wrong, but it still wasn’t a comfortable thing to think about.

Heather frowned. “I mean, I don’t like talking about it, but if it would help him…”

“Thank you, Heather.”

She nodded again, but there was still an underlying tension, words unspoken, and she pulled her hands from Astrid’s. Before Astrid could question the action, she said:

“I’m sorry. I don’t feel comfortable with, well, _us_ , until I hear that it’s okay from Hiccup as well.”

It was Astrid’s turn to nod. “I understand.”

 

_Hiccup loved Astrid, but what he was doing to her couldn’t be counted as lovemaking. It was too vicious, too wild, and he was enjoying every second of it. It had been too long since he’d been between her legs._

_Astrid was a willing partner, moving with him, encouraging him and urging him on. She had her legs wrapped tight around him, her nails dragging trails over his scarred back, the touch deliciously just hinting of pain._

_Their mouths melded together, and Hiccup kissed her like he was a man dying of starvation and she was the only food in sight. He hadn’t felt her lips or tasted her mouth in so long. He’d been deprived of it, of_ her. 

_He pulled away, panting, looked her in the eyes._

_“Astrid, I-”_

_There was a sharp tug on his collar, choking him, cutting off his words and his movements._

_“Hiccup, what the Hel are you doing with her instead of me?” Dagur’s question was hostile, anger simmering just beneath the surface._

_Hiccup wasn’t given a chance to answer. Dagur used his hold on the collar to pull him off of Astrid, who gave a startled shout and reached out for him. He held out his hands for her, but Dagur dragged him off the bed and out of her reach. The chain on his ankle rattled. He was yanked to a standing position, one of Dagur’s huge arms wrapping around his middle to hold him flush against him. He was naked, his erection pressed against his backside._

_“D-Dagur, please.” Hiccup didn’t know what he was pleading with him for. Maybe for him to release him and let him go back to Astrid, maybe for him to just hurry up and fuck him._

_Dagur let go of his collar, but only to stick his hand between them and position his cock. He spoke with his lips against his ear, his words only for him:_

_“You think Astrid will like seeing you get fucked like this?” His cock slid easily into his body like he’d been stretched already, like it was supposed to be there, and Hiccup moaned a little at the sensation. “You think maybe she’ll touch herself?”_

_Hiccup didn’t really want to know the answer to that, so he closed his eyes. Dagur began moving, cock stroking against all the places he wanted to be touched. He tilted his head back against him, let himself moan._

_“Dagur, wh-what if you both- you both take me?” That would work. He wanted Astrid, wanted Dagur, so why not have both at once?_

_“Because you’re mine and mine only.”_

_Hiccup couldn’t deny that he was his, not with the way he was using his body, not with the brand over his heart. That wouldn’t do though. He wanted both of them._

_“But I want_ both _of you! Please!”_

_Dagur sighed against him. “Fine.”_

_The bed was somehow big enough for all three of them. Maybe it was Dagur’s bed on Berzerk, where Hiccup belonged. He’d said that was big enough to fit three people._

_Hiccup lay on his side between Dagur and Astrid. Dagur gripped his left hip, and the touch hurt him, but he didn’t mind really. Astrid’s hand went above his, on his waist. Her other hand was taking his cock and guiding it into her. As he became encased in her, Dagur entered him from behind, and his two lovers breathed his name simultaneously._

_“Oh gods,_ yes… _” This was the kind of fulfillment Hiccup wanted, to be enveloped between the person that he needed and the person that he loved._

_It wasn’t hard to find a rhythm, as Hiccup knew both of them intimately now, knew how they each did this. When Dagur was pulling back to thrust, Hiccup would move forward into Astrid, and his movement backward had him meeting Dagur at just the right time. Feeling pleasure from both sides like this, he didn’t think he’d be able to last very long, but he wanted to. He didn’t want this to stop, wanted it to go on forever._

_Hiccup clutched Astrid tightly to himself, not wanting to let go of her. Her other hand was running through his hair. Dagur’s was trailing over the front of his body, his mouth attempting to eat his shoulder. He was the center of their attention and he was loving it. This was what he needed._

 

Hiccup woke to a familiar snout shoving him hard in the shoulder.

“Ughn, _what_ , Toothless?” He rolled onto his back. He’d moved onto his side while sleeping, and now his right hip was screaming at him for it. “W-wasn’t a nightmare. Not really.” The inclusion of Dagur brought it close to a nightmare, but he hadn’t been hurting him. He’d been working with Astrid to pleasure him. What was nightmarish about that?

Though, Hiccup almost wished that it had been something bad, something worthy of being called a nightmare. If it had been he wouldn’t be waking with untamed lust raging through his blood. He groaned at it. It was throbbing away at him, as if it didn’t realize it had been acknowledged, begging to be seen to.

_No, no, go away._

Toothless rumbled in concern, nuzzled against his face. 

“No, Toothless. Don’t… don’t touch me right now.” Hiccup knew touch would be bad for him at the moment. Touch would make his body think it was going to get what it wanted, but it wasn’t. He couldn’t succumb to it.

Toothless nuzzled him again, and Hiccup brought up his hands to try to shove him away. He was gentle about it though, and Toothless listened, lowering himself to the side of the bed.

“Toothless, please. Not now.” His words were practically a despairing moan. He didn’t want to do this right now, didn’t want to have to fight with his body and that other version of himself. He didn’t really know what he wanted right now, but this struggle wasn’t it.

Sex. He wanted sex. No. He _needed_ it. He could acknowledge that without letting his other self loose. He was currently battering at the inside of his head and screaming at him, at everything. Hiccup wanted to scream too, but he didn’t. Instead he just laid there panting, his hands balling into fists.

Gods, he wanted it so bad. He felt like he’d never wanted anything more in his life, which was stupid, really. The pleasure sex brought was fleeting. How could he want something so badly if it wasn’t going to last forever?

And then he’d want it again. And again. It’d never stop. He was dependent on it. He needed it to live. How was he going to live without-?

_No. That’s him talking. That’s the other me. I don’t need it to live. I don’t need it at all._

Hiccup tried to even out his breathing, but he couldn’t, not when he was struggling like this. He felt himself beginning to shake, sweat breaking out on his forehead. There were tears welling in his eyes, a whimper climbing in his throat. Toothless was looking at him oddly, head tilted in concern, and he made a sound at him, probably asking if he was okay, but Hiccup ignored him and shut his eyes.

When he closed his eyes his reality began to slip away from him. He hadn’t been rescued. He was still with Dagur. Any second now he would feel his hands on him, trailing under his clothing, feel his mouth on his. Dagur wouldn’t let him suffer like this. Dagur would take care of this problem for him, would give him exactly what he needed. He’d free him from this torture and give him pleasure instead.

He didn’t get pleasure though. He whined, shifted, arched up desperately into empty air. It was beginning to hurt, want aching and throbbing all over his body. If someone could just _touch_ him. If he just touched himself…

“No!” Hiccup’s eyes flew open, his breath coming harder now. “No, no, no!” He grabbed at the blankets, twisted his head, writhing in the sheer agony of his need. He knew that if he just took care of this on his own his suffering would stop for the time being, but if he did that he would lose. He’d lose to Dagur. He’d lose to that other side of himself that had been created by Dagur. He couldn’t lose. He _couldn’t_.

But by Thor he was hurting without it. He needed to fuck someone, or for someone to fuck him. It didn’t matter. He’d take anything and anyone that would relieve him of this. Hel, he’d even take Viggo.

That was the _other_ him surfacing, and he crushed it down as hard as he could. No, he didn’t need to fuck someone. He wouldn’t settle for just anyone. He _especially_ wouldn’t settle for Viggo. The man had tortured him, had brought him pain he’d thought impossible.

He sobbed, and Toothless apparently couldn’t stand by anymore. He rubbed his head against his chest, and Hiccup did his best not to moan at the feeling. Then Toothless rested his head on him, looked at him, and Hiccup met his gaze. Maybe that would help. Maybe looking at him and realizing that what was touching him wasn’t human would help. Maybe touching him would too.

Hiccup uncurled his fingers from the blankets, shakily brought his hands to Toothless and touched him, one hand on his snout, the other on the top of his head. Scales. He was touching scales. Humans didn’t have scales. He wasn’t being touched by a human, and he wasn’t about to be.

But maybe if he just shoved Toothless off, reached his hand into his pants-

Hiccup groaned, shutting down that thought. He couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t. He absolutely refused to. He’d gotten this far without doing it. He wasn’t going to do it now. That would mean this entire battle would have been for nothing. 

Toothless warbled, probably once again asking him what was wrong.

“I-I don’t know how to explain, bud. He… He made me d-dependent on something.” Sex. He needed it now. “M-made me addicted to it.” _No_. He didn’t need it. But it _hurt. No._ “And I d-don’t want- don’t want t-to give in.” 

Toothless didn’t make any indication that he understood, but there was no indication that he was confused either. Maybe he did get it.

Dagur’s hands... His nice, big, calloused hands...

No.

Running over him, reaching between his legs...

_No._

Touching him where he was hurting the most, making the pain go away, relieving him, replacing it with pleasure…

“ _No._ ” Hiccup had to change his thoughts, had to think of something else entirely.

Burning. Fire eating away at him, and not the fire of lust, but _actual_ fire. Or at least, the feeling of it, the _memory_ of it. There had been nothing sexual about that pure, unadulterated, _unrivaled_ anguish.

A shiver worked itself up his spine, breaking through the heat in his body.

Curled up on the floor, screaming and tearing his voice out of him. Eyes on him, watching him suffer, eyes like knives. 

Hiccup sobbed again, but not because of his arousal, but because of the pain he’d felt, because of the memory of it. He didn’t want to think about it, but it was working to kill his body’s desires. 

He had to plunge himself back into fire to get rid of this, and he was willing to do it.

Fire. It seemed like such a simple word, not enough to sum up the burning he’d felt. Even the word burning felt like an understatement of what he’d endured. It had been _obliteration_. He was surprised he’d lived through it. He was surprised his mind had lived through it. He couldn’t say his mind had lived through everything else though.

Tears blurred Toothless in his vision and he blinked them away. 

A mouth on his neck...

Muspellheim incarnate in his veins. 

Fingers trailing over him...

Molten metal gushing through his body. Fire decimating and devouring. A million branding irons being held against his skin. 

Someone making love to him… Making love to someone else…

Making love to Surtr, King of the Fire Giants. Making love to fire itself. No. That’s not what that had been. The idea of making love with fire was too gentle. He’d been ravished by it.

Fire. The Night Fury in the fire the first time Dagur had drugged him. He’d forgotten about that hallucination until now, and it was pulling him from the depths of the flame. Night Fury. Toothless. He had Toothless, right here looking at him. _Toothless._ He had his dragon with him, his best friend; he was okay.

Hiccup pulled in a shuddering breath, letting his body go slack. Okay. He was okay. He wasn’t on fire in any sense. He wasn’t burning with pain, and best of all, wasn’t burning with lust either. It was gone.

Relief settled with a sweet coolness in his chest, trickled outwards to the rest of his body. He sighed, and Toothless raised his ears at him, looking for an update on how he was doing.

Hiccup smiled. “I’m okay, Toothless. I’m okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I want to say thank you for the nice comments you guys have been giving me. The last chapter received quite a bit of hate over on fanfiction.net and it's just amazing that I'm not getting it here. Thank you so much.


	84. Chapter 83

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The new chapter is finally here! I just want to say thank you to all of you who are still reading. The nice reviews are very much appreciated. Also, for those of you reading _Brother_ , I did start chapter 5, but now I'm stuck for some reason. It'll get out there eventually, but I can't say when.

Fishlegs and Ruffnut brought Hiccup his lunch, and they brought a barrel of fish for Toothless as well. They managed to have a semi-normal conversation with no talk of what had happened to him, the war, or Dagur. Hiccup was especially glad no one brought up Viggo. No one knew what he’d done to him. They didn’t necessarily know that he was another topic to be avoided.

They also moved his desk to be right next to his bed, putting books and charcoal and paper on it so that he wouldn’t have to move around to occupy himself. He was bored after they left, and so he tried reading, but he was restless and couldn’t get into it. The same went for drawing. He was wondering when Heather was going to show up. He felt like he was waiting for something else too, but he didn’t know exactly what.

His next visitor wasn’t Heather though. It was Gobber. Hiccup allowed him to come in, but he bristled a little bit when he sat down by the bed. He’d helped his father drug him, and he’d probably seen the state his body was in as well.

Gobber gave him a guilty look before speaking. “So, about last night-”

“My dad explained it to me,” Hiccup cut him off, sounding more harsh and bitter than he’d wanted to. “I get it. I wasn’t being reasonable and I needed to be seen to.”

“I just want to apologize.”

Hiccup ground his teeth together, but said nothing. Apologies didn’t matter. People would apologize for things and then keep doing whatever it was they’d apologized for. Dagur had done that to him a lot. He’d apologize for hurting him, but keep hurting him anyway.

 _No, but this is Gobber._ Gobber and Dagur were nothing alike.

“I understand.” Hiccup couldn’t accept the apology, not when he was still hurting from what had happened, but he could at least let Gobber know that he acknowledged it.

“So how are you doing?”

Hiccup looked away from him, towards Toothless, who hadn’t moved from his spot beside him. He reached his right hand out for him and Toothless nuzzled his face into it. He felt like lying to Gobber, but what was the point in that? What was the point in hiding what he was feeling? He’d had to hide a lot of his feelings around Dagur. Couldn’t he just let them out now?

“Not good.” That was all he said though. He didn’t know how to explain all that was tormenting him. He glanced uncomfortably at Gobber. “Y-you saw what he did to me, didn’t you?”

Gobber nodded sadly.

“My back too?” His dad hadn’t seen that last night, had instead seen it that morning. He hadn’t said anything, but he had definitely been surprised by it.

“Aye. Looks like he whipped you.”

Hiccup swallowed hard at the memory of that night. He wished nutmeg was one of those drugs that made you pass out and forget, but he remembered everything, remembered how it had been torment so bad that only the Triple Stryke venom rivaled it.

“He did. I tried escaping and he got me.” _And I deserved it._ Escape was something Hiccup shouldn’t have sought after, not when he was Dagur’s property. He shouldn’t even be away from him now. Weren’t the Dragon Riders in the wrong for “rescuing” him? He didn’t even know if it was rescue. He was being imprisoned again, the ability to walk taken from him, and he felt like he was dying without Dagur, without his touch.

“I’m sorry he did that, Hiccup.”

“I’m not.” It slipped out before Hiccup could stop himself. He lowered his hand from Toothless. “Well, I mean, I am, but- I don’t know how to explain.”

“It’s okay if you don’t know how. You went through a lot.”

“Yeah, but just-” Hiccup looked down at his hands. “It feels like it’s trying to spill all out of me, and I don’t know how to let it do that. I just want to scream until I can’t anymore.”

“You could try writing it.”

“Huh?” Hiccup looked up at him again.

“You could write down what you’re feeling. Maybe it’ll help you make sense of it. And you can keep it all private if you want to. It can just be for you, a way to get everything out.”

Hiccup nodded slowly, thinking. That was actually a good idea. A way for him to get out all his emotions without divulging all that had happened to someone. Paper wouldn’t judge him, wouldn’t speak back to him. It wouldn’t grow angry or negate his feelings or tell him what he should be feeling instead. Paper was a void that he could spill everything into without consequence, a void that he could scream his soul into with charcoal.

“That’s a really good idea, Gobber. Thank you.” Hiccup gave him a small smile, and Gobber returned it, though his eyes still looked sad. Hiccup didn’t like how sad everyone around him looked, and he wished he could fix it, but he couldn’t. He doubted he could even fix himself.

“There’s only one thing I want to ask you about.”

“Um, go ahead?” Hiccup was afraid of what it would be.

“Those bruises going all the way around your neck - how’d they get there?”

Hiccup rubbed at his neck, swallowed. He hated that the bruises were still there. Hopefully they’d be gone soon. It had been about two weeks since his suicide attempt, so surely they were fading, weren’t as dark and horrid as they had been when he’d first tried.

“Promise me you won’t tell my dad first.” He didn’t know why he was telling Gobber this. He didn’t have to. He could just as easily say he didn’t want to answer. “It’s not something he needs to know about.”

“I promise.” With the way Gobber said it, Hiccup knew that he wasn’t lying, knew that he could trust him.

Hiccup had to look away to gain the courage to tell him. He couldn’t possibly look at him while saying this. He didn’t even look at Toothless. Would Toothless understand what he was about to say?

“I tried committing suicide. I took the chain that was on my ankle and wrapped it around my neck. And I wanted it to work.” Tears stung at his eyes, and though he was sick of crying he let them come free. “I was so desperate for it to work! So desperate to just _die_ , b-but then I was waking up in Dagur’s arms, and it made me want to die even more than I had before. But I didn’t- I didn’t try again for some reason. After that I… I guess I accepted that that was how I was going to live.” He wiped at his eyes, looked first to Toothless, who seemed distressed to see him like this, and then to Gobber. He was staring at the floor, lips pursed, obviously trying to take this all in.

“You don’t want to do that now, do you?” It sounded like there was difficulty in making the words come out of him.

“No,” Hiccup answered honestly. “But if someone tried to kill me I wouldn’t particularly care.”

Gobber said nothing for a long while, and Hiccup’s tears stopped as he waited, anxiety clenching at his stomach.

“Please don’t tell my dad.” His voice was small. “I don’t want him worrying about me more than he already is.”

“I won’t tell him.” Gobber was meeting his gaze now, and there was sincerity in his eyes. “This can just stay between you and me.”

“And the Dragon Riders,” Hiccup added. “I told them too.”

“You’re strong, Hiccup. Stronger than I think you’re probably giving yourself credit for.”

Hiccup wanted to argue with him. He felt like the farthest thing from strong. He felt so utterly weak and helpless, stuck in bed, injured, his emotions tearing him to shreds every second that went by. But he didn’t argue.

“Thank you.”

“Well, I better go.” Gobber reached out to pat him on the shoulder, and Hiccup pulled violently away from it, his breath catching in his throat. “Right. Sorry.” He stood, rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck, and Hiccup let himself relax. Then he pointed to the paper and the charcoal on his desk. “But try writing. See if that helps you at all.”

“I will.” Hiccup was set on doing it as soon as he left. “See you later, Gobber.”

“You too, Hiccup. Just get some rest, okay?”

Hiccup nodded. It wasn’t really like he had a choice in the matter.

He waited for Gobber to leave before reaching for the paper and some charcoal. Then he grabbed a book and put it in his lap so that he would have something flat to write on. Toothless made a questioning sound, tilted his head at him in curiosity.

“Just trying something, Toothless.”

Hiccup picked up the charcoal, placed it on the page, then just stared at it. He didn’t know what to write first. Everything was storming inside of him, vying for attention all at once. Where was he supposed to start?

**I hate him.**

That was the simplest of statements, but it was what seemed to be at the forefront of everything.

**I hate him.**

Maybe he should try writing his name with it. He’d used his name while talking to Gobber. Certainly he could write it.

**I hate Dagur.**

He couldn’t just write that he hated him. That was obvious. Everyone knew that. He had to write something that only he himself knew.

**I want him.**

_Use his name._

It scared him, but he wrote it down anyway. He didn’t think he’d ever been so terrified of simply writing anything before.

 **I want Dagur.**

_Looking_ at it scared him, and he almost expected the paper to say something back to him, to tell him that he shouldn’t want Dagur, that that was wrong. He knew it was wrong though, so he wrote that too.

**I know it’s wrong, but I want him.**

Hiccup just kept writing now, not stopping to really let himself think.

**I want him so badly. I feel like I’m dying without him. I need him. I need him touching me or I’m going to die. I feel like I’m dying. I want it to stop. Someone needs to make it stop. Dagur needs to make it stop. I’m dying. I’m going crazy. I need him to touch me. I need him to hold me. I need him to fuck me. It happened constantly and now I’m dying without it. I don’t know how I keep breathing. I don’t know how I keep going. If he could just touch me everything would be all better. I’d be okay. I’m not okay. I want to be okay. I don’t think I’ll ever be okay. He ruined me. I know he did. I know I’m not what I used to be but I can’t remember what I was like before him. I hate him. I hate him I hate him I hate him I hate him I hate him I hate**

Hiccup found that he just kept writing that, furiously, his handwriting getting more jumbled and frenzied, becoming illegible. 

The charcoal snapped, pulling him out of it. He looked down at what he’d written, read it over, shame writhing like a living thing in his stomach, but the paper didn’t judge him for it. The only one judging him for it was himself.

He wasn’t done yet. He reached for a new piece of charcoal. He didn’t have a knife to sharpen this one with, and that was okay really. He knew that if he’d had a knife within reach he would have cut himself. He pulled out a new page, began writing again. He felt like he was just listing everything he hated. He’d never felt so much hatred before. He could vaguely remember hatred being an emotion that was foreign to his old self, an emotion that hardly ever occurred, but now he felt it constantly, with every breath. It was so thick in his blood he didn’t think it would ever clear.

**I hate my body. I hate what it looks like. I hate the scars. I hate the brand. I hate his name in me. I hate the scar in my side. I hate the scars in my back. It’s hideous. It’s all hideous. It’s awful. I look awful. My body looks awful. I hate it. He ruined it he ruined it. He owns it. It’s not mine anymore. It’s not mine and I hate it. Dagur doesn’t hate it. Maybe that’s what matters. Maybe I shouldn’t hate it if he doesn’t. But I hate it. I hate how what he’s done to me is visible. Why do scars exist? Why do these ones have to be permanent? Why can’t they just fade away? Why are they here? Why did he do this? Why? I hate it. I don’t just hate my body for how it looks. I hate it for how it acts. I hate it because it wants sex. I want sex. I hate myself. I hate myself. I shouldn’t want sex. I shouldn’t want it. I shouldn’t want it. But I do. I want sex. I want sex so bad. I want Dagur so bad. I want Dagur. I hate Dagur.**

Hiccup dropped the charcoal, hand cramping, realizing everything was just leading in circles. He hated this, he wanted that. It was all just the same thing, wasn’t it? Hatred and want, intertwined so tightly with each other it’d never become unstuck. He knew it seemed ridiculous, too general, but he hated everything.

Toothless made a gentle cooing sound, nuzzled the side of his face. No, not everything. Hiccup had forgotten he was there. He lifted his head, stared into his eyes. They were so intelligent, so knowing, but also so concerned. Toothless knew he was suffering. He couldn’t hate Toothless. That was impossible. He reached for the charcoal again.

**I don’t hate Toothless. I don’t hate Astrid. I don’t hate Heather. I don’t hate Tuffnut. I don’t hate Snotlout. I don’t hate Fishlegs. I don’t hate Ruffnut. I don’t**

He stopped. He’d been about to write that he didn’t hate his dad, and something about that felt like a lie. 

**I hate**

No. He couldn’t write that either. He didn’t hate his dad, but he didn’t not hate him either. He’d drugged him. He’d taken advantage of his trust in him. He’d seen his body and his brand when he hadn’t wanted him to. 

**I know why he had to do it. I know I’m not being reasonable. I know I needed medical attention. I know I’m hurt. But I’m mad. He shouldn’t have done that. He shouldn’t have drugged me. I trusted him. I’m supposed to be able to trust my own dad. I don’t trust him anymore. But what could he have done instead? I wasn’t listening to him. He just wants to take care of me. It was with good intentions. But he drugged me. He meant well. He drugged me. He drugged me just like Dagur did. I can’t trust him. I can’t trust anyone.**

No. That was wrong. He quickly scribbled out that last sentence. He could trust people. He could trust Toothless. He just couldn’t trust his dad. It hurt him to think that, but it was true. How could he trust him after what he’d done?

Hiccup was going to continue writing, but there was a knock on his door.

“Hey, Hiccup? It’s Heather. Can I come in?”

“Yep!” He quickly gathered up the paper, stuck it in the middle of the book where no one would see it unless they really went looking. He was putting that and the charcoal on his desk by the time Heather reached the top of the stairs.

“So, you wanted to talk to me?” She seemed nervous. Tired too. 

“Yeah, um…” Now that she was here Hiccup didn’t know what he wanted to say. He felt like out of everyone she would understand what he’d gone through the best, but he wasn’t even sure what exactly he wanted to discuss. “You can sit.” He pointed to the chair by the bed, and she sat. He realized that he’d been staring at her abdomen since she’d gotten there, and he quickly drew his eyes to her face, but then found that he couldn’t look at her, so he instead turned his head towards the wall. “Sorry.”

“For what?”

“For staring.” 

“It’s okay, I guess. Must be another thing that’s weird for you.” Heather only sounded a tad uncomfortable.

“Yeah.” Hiccup looked down at his hands. There was a silence in which he considered asking who the father was, but he didn’t have to. He already knew who it was, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. 

“You know who the father is, don’t you? You’re smart. Probably took you no time to figure it out.”

“It’s Dagur, right?” He looked to Heather for confirmation, and she just nodded. There was shame in her eyes. He knew it well from feeling it constantly. There was solidarity there, in Dagur giving them both shame to feel.

“I’m sorry, Heather.”

“I’m not.” Heather put a hand to her abdomen. “Not anymore, at least. I can’t hate this child. They didn’t do anything wrong, and they’re not Dagur.”

“But it comes from Dagur.” Hiccup realized that he had said the wrong thing when he saw the hurt expression on Heather’s face, and he quickly shook his head. “No, no. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just hard. I hate anything to do with him right now. I’m sorry.”

Heather sighed, let her hand fall away. “I understand, Hiccup. I hate him too.”

Hiccup just nodded. He wanted to ask why she hadn’t killed him, but he knew that would only work to make her feel bad, and that wasn’t what he wanted to do. Then he realized something. Even with Dagur dead he still wouldn’t be free. Heather was chief too. The crest he had burned into him was hers as well. He subconsciously put his hand to it over his clothes. She owned him. That was another reason this thing had to go.

“Hiccup, what is it?”

He lowered his hand. “Nothing.” He wouldn’t tell her that now. Maybe he’d never tell her. He didn’t know yet. “So did Astrid talk to you?”

“Yeah.”

“And she told you I said it was okay that you two are dating?”

“She did.”

“And are you okay with… sharing her with me? You understand how she feels for both of us?” It was still such a strange concept to Hiccup, but he was alright with it. If Astrid was happy that way, then it would work. He just wanted Astrid to be happy, and he didn’t feel jealous of Heather in the slightest. Jealousy was a thing that didn’t exist in him.

“I’m okay with it. She loves both of us so-” Heather paused. She must have noticed the way Hiccup tensed at the word “loves”, at how his hands clenched into fists. He knew they’d tried telling him not to base any concepts of love off of what had happened with Dagur, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t get it out of his head. He didn’t want Astrid to love him. That meant that she was going to hurt him and force it on him whether or not he wanted it. And he was still confused as to how someone other than Dagur could love him and what he’d become.

“He really ruined that for you, didn’t he?” She asked gently.

Hiccup forced himself to uncurl his fingers. “He ruined a lot for me.” _He ruined_ me. Then Hiccup was thinking of how he’d physically ruined him, of how badly his hips were hurting. He couldn’t look at Heather when he asked his next question. “Was he rough with you?”

“Sometimes,” Heather answered, sounding uncomfortable. She shifted in her seat. “Not always. He was gentle whenever I told him to be. What about, um, with you?”

Hiccup wanted to laugh for some reason, but he didn’t. He just said quietly: “He fractured my hips. He’d hold onto me like I was the only thing from keeping him from falling off the world or something. And he’d…” Hiccup debated saying the next part, but then didn’t see why he couldn’t. “He’d fuck me hard too. I don’t know if he was trying to destroy me or find my soul. Maybe both.” He reached up to pull his shirt from his left shoulder to show her the bitemark there. He’d drawn blood with that one. “And sometimes it was like he could barely keep himself from eating me.” He quickly glanced to Heather, saw horror in her eyes. He put his shirt back in place, suddenly feeling uncomfortable about having shown skin. 

“Was he ever gentle with you?”

“Yeah. There were times where he’d make love to me.” Hiccup knew that’s what it had been. That was what Dagur had intended anyway, what it had felt like. Only Heather would understand that. No one else would understand that he was capable of that. “It was kind of rare though. He can be gentle, but he’s bad at it.”

“Yeah, he is,” Heather agreed. “But even though he made love to you, it was still rape. You know that, right?”

Hiccup pursed his lips, picked at his blanket. That was an odd thing for him to try to understand. What _was_ rape, really? Surely it’d stopped counting as that when he’d started cooperating, when his body had started wanting that more than anything else. “I mean, I guess.”

“You guess? Hiccup, if you didn’t want it-”

“It’s not that simple, Heather,” he cut her off. 

“Yeah, it is, actually. Did you want it or did you not want it?”

“I didn’t. Or, I did. I don’t know.” Hiccup shook his head. “It _isn’t_ simple! It’s confusing as all Hel!”

“But did you ever truly consent to it? Or did he just make you?”

Hiccup didn’t like how she was pressuring him like this. Why was it so important that he saw his captivity as one thing? It hadn’t been one thing. 

“I don’t know,” he said again. “Please, it’s not simple. It’s not one thing. It’s a _bunch_ of things all wrapped up into one giant _nightmare_. So yeah - maybe it was rape, maybe it wasn’t. I don’t fucking know.”

Heather didn’t say anything to that, and so Hiccup moved on with his next question. “How often did you two…?” He wanted to know if Dagur was like that with everybody, didn’t want to be some special obsession with him, though he knew he was. If Heather’s numbers matched up with his maybe he’d feel a little better about it.

“Um, maybe once a day or every other day. Sometimes twice in one day.”

Nope. Not even close. Hiccup’s hopes were crushed. His shoulders sagged as if a giant weight had been put on them.

“How often with you?”

Hiccup swallowed. “T-two to three times a day... At the least.”

“And at the most?” He could feel Heather’s trepidation floating in the space between them.

Hiccup didn’t want to say it, but he forced it out anyway. “Five to seven. I-I think. I’m not really sure honestly, but it was a lot. There were some days where I felt like I just lived with him on top of me.” _Inside of me._ “At first I kept count of how many times he did it to me in total, and then when that got to be too much I kept count of how many times in one day. Then after a while I just gave up. It’s all a blur save for a few instances.” A blur of hands on him, of lips and teeth, of a cock stretching him… all things he wanted now.

 _Oh shit._

Hiccup hadn’t meant for his thoughts to go there, hadn’t meant for his memories to conjure the physical sensations of it all, but as he sat there it was like he could feel Dagur’s hands trailing over his body, feel his breath on his face. He didn’t mean to, but he whimpered.

“Hiccup, is everything alright?”

Right. Heather was here with him. He couldn’t fall into that now. 

“Y-yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. Just… talking about it is…”

He looked at her, met her eyes. Eyes that were so much like Dagur’s: the same shade of green, the same shape.

“Hiccup, you don’t have to talk about it.”

Dagur’s eyes. Dagur’s eyes as he took him, staring into him and everything that he was. _Dagur._

He violently tore his gaze away from her, squeezed his eyes shut, clutched at the blankets, breathing fast. He wanted it. He wanted _him_. He wanted all of it _right now_.

“Hiccup?” He heard Heather stand, and Toothless rumbled in concern. “What’s going on?”

He made a strange mewling, whining sound. He should just kick her out so he could take care of this on his own, but he didn’t want it to be on his own. If he couldn’t have Dagur he at least wanted _someone_ , but no one knew about this. No one could- Wait. Astrid. Astrid knew. He’d told her. She could help him.

“A-Astrid,” he gasped out. He felt like he was being strangled with each second that passed without his need being fulfilled. “Get Astrid.”


	85. Chapter 84

Astrid had gone as quick as she could to Hiccup’s hut after Heather had rushed in and had said something was wrong and that Hiccup had told her to go get her. Heather followed, but at a slower pace. Astrid was worried about what she would be walking in on. Was he having another fit of screaming, or one of those episodes where he was breathing too fast but said he couldn’t breathe and felt like he was panicking?

Though, when she reached the top of the stairs, she found that who she was met with was, decidedly, not Hiccup. There was something else in his eyes, _someone_ else. His eyes didn’t even really look fully human. There was just hunger and need on a scale she’d never seen before, and that’s all there was. Her breath caught in her throat. There was something so utterly terrifying about that gaze, about looking at Hiccup but it not really being _him_. He was clutching hard at the blankets, trembling, panting out breaths through parted lips. If Astrid didn’t know better, she’d say it looked like he was in pain. Toothless stood by him, looking tensed and concerned.

Then relief crossed into his eyes, and the real Hiccup resurfaced.

“Astrid. Astrid, oh Thor, please help me.”

The door opened below. “Astrid?” Heather called. “Is he alright?”

Despair flooded into Hiccup’s expression, and he frantically shook his head. He clearly didn’t want Heather here. Then he looked to Toothless. He didn’t want him here either.

“Hey, Heather? Do you think you can take Toothless for a walk?”

“Uh, sure. But what about Hiccup?”

The real Hiccup was quickly fading from his eyes, once again being consumed by that other him. That’s what - _who_ \- this was: the other version of himself that he’d told her about, the version that Dagur had created.

“ _Please_ ,” Hiccup breathed, only loud enough for Astrid to hear.

“He’ll be okay,” Astrid called back. “Just take Toothless for now. Hey, Toothless?” The dragon looked to her, tilted his head. “Go downstairs and go with Heather, alright?”

Toothless looked at Hiccup, then back at her, clearly reluctant to leave his friend when he was in distress.

“Toothless, he’ll be okay. Just go with Heather.”

Toothless didn’t look so sure, but he plodded on past her. He gave Hiccup one last, worried glance before hopping off of the loft. It was silent until the door closed behind Toothless and Heather. Astrid was alone with this other Hiccup, and he was looking at her in an almost predatory way that made her glad he was confined to his bed. 

Then, without speaking, he was taking off his shirt, and Astrid was finally able to figure out what it was that she’d noticed was different about his movements but hadn’t been able to put her finger on. They were sensual, languid, like he was trying to entice sexual attention, like he was trying to please. Astrid didn’t know what to do with all this, with him. She was at a complete loss.

Hiccup, or, the other Hiccup, clearly wasn’t. Astrid didn’t quite know what to call him. His name seemed wrong when it looked like he wasn’t there.

“Astrid, fuck me.”

“What?” 

“Come on. Fuck me.” He threw the blankets off, reached for his pants, probably to remove them. The bulge between his legs was undeniable.

“No, keep your clothes on.”

He froze, his hands at the waistband. “Why?” There was a whine to his voice.

“Well, for one, that would hurt you.” Something didn’t feel right about this. She couldn’t just let him give in to his addiction. 

“So?”

Astrid didn’t know what to say to that, didn’t know how to reason with this version of him. Seeing the pure desperation and lust in his eyes, she didn’t think there would be any reasoning with him.

“Hiccup, you have to fight this.”

“No! I don’t want to!” He almost sounded petulant with those words, like a child. 

“Hiccup, I’m not going to do it,” she told him, though she didn’t sound as firm as she had wanted to. “I’m not going to do anything.”

“Please, Astrid. _Please_.” He reached out for her, and she wasn’t going to go over, but then the real Hiccup came back to his eyes, desperate and hurting. Her heart ached, and she found herself going over to him, taking one of his hands. “I-I can’t fight it.” This was the real Hiccup speaking. She could hear it in his words. He sounded so defeated. “I want to but I can’t. It hurts. I need it so bad it hurts.”

“Where does it hurt?”

“E-everywhere. It’s like it’s burning under my skin. Please, _please_. Help me. Just help me.” There were tears in his eyes, and if this had been the other Hiccup she would have felt like she was being manipulated. She didn’t feel that now. This Hiccup was genuine.

“How can I help you?”

“T-touch me. Kiss me. Please, _anything!_ ” His tears were falling freely and he gripped her hand tight. “Please, Astrid! Please! I need it! I need it so bad! I need you!”

“Are you sure?” It hurt to see him like this, but she needed to hear him say it, needed an absolute yes. 

Real Hiccup vanished, anger mixing in with his desire. Astrid yanked her hand back.

“Do it! Please!”

“ _Hiccup._ ” Maybe his name would draw him back. She needed to hear it from the real him, or she wouldn’t count it as him truly consenting. “I need to hear it from the real you.”

There was a battle on his face, in his eyes, tears still falling, and then the real Hiccup came flickering back.

“Yes, Astrid. Yes. Just please make it stop. Make it stop hurting. Please.”

Astrid didn’t know what else to do. She leaned down and kissed him. It was something she’d previously thought she’d never be able to do again. It was something she’d missed. For a moment everything felt normal, like nothing had ever happened and Hiccup was unchanged. He pulled away briefly, met her eyes. He was still there for the moment.

“Thank you.” And then she watched him completely vanish under his need, and she almost wanted to pull away from him and just leave, but she didn’t. She couldn’t leave someone she cared about while they were hurting like this, not when she could help. She kissed him again, and this new Hiccup moaned against her, grabbed at the back of her head and her waist to have her sitting on the bed by him. It wasn’t long before she felt his tongue prying at her lips, and she allowed him entrance. It was so strange. It felt like Hiccup’s mouth, but it didn’t feel like _him_. She’d never felt this level of lust from him before. It was almost overwhelming.

She carefully ran one hand over his torso, feeling as if he was so fragile now. He was so thin. She could feel his ribs under her hand.

He readily arched into it, pressing himself against her hand. Then he was pulling away from her mouth, tilting his head back, and Astrid knew that as something he did when he wanted his neck kissed. She complied, gently pressing her lips to his throat, to the slowly-fading bruises there. He let out a satisfied sigh, then grabbed at one of her hands, directed it towards his chest. Thinking she understood what he wanted, she brushed her fingers across his right nipple, and it hardened under her touch. He hadn’t been too into stimulation here before, but he seemed to be now, as he gasped and moved into it. She played with his nipples the same way he’d used to do with hers, stroking her fingers over them, pinching lightly, all the while running open-mouthed kisses along his neck. It had him moaning and arching into her. She moved her mouth down over his neck, his collarbone, lapped at one nipple, and he tangled his fingers in her hair.

“Harder,” he gasped out. “Pinch me. Bite me.”

Astrid questioned why he would want her to hurt him like that, but he sounded so sure of it, so she found herself doing it anyway, pinching hard at one nipple and biting down on the other. She figured he must have gotten used to being treated roughly, and his body must have started to like it even. He cried out, and she wanted to pull away at the sound, but he was holding her head to him, clearly not wanting her to stop.

“ _Agh._ Just like that.”

Astrid sucked and nipped at him until she was sure he would be bruised, and then Hiccup was gently directing her head towards the other one to give it the same attention. Then he took her free hand in his, put it right between his legs, pressing it against the bulge of his erection. She was glad he let her pull her head away so she could speak.

“Are you sure?”

“Gods, _yes_.” He thrusted up against her with a whimpering noise, though the action must have hurt his hips. “Please, _please_.”

Astrid wasn’t used to him begging like this. Begging was something the old Hiccup had only ever done very rarely, even when they were in bed together and she was teasing him. It was something he hadn’t really liked to lower himself to, but now he was doing it with seemingly no qualms about it. She ceded to it, drew down the waistband of his pants to let his cock come free. He hung his head back as she began stroking it, releasing a loud moan. Still, she had to ask:

“Is this okay?”

He lifted his head, looked at her oddly. His eyes were a strange mixing of real Hiccup and that other one. “Why are you asking?”

That hurt. “To make sure I’m not doing anything you don’t want.”

“But I _do_ want it. Mm… Don’t stop, Astrid. Please.” He shifted into her hand, and so Astrid didn’t stop. 

She studied him as she did this, taking in the changes to his body. There was an awful-looking scar that started at his pelvis, only an inch or so away from his cock. It arced up into the bandages around his hips, and she was pretty sure that the scar coming out from the bandages and up his left side was still the same one, though it was much wider and more rugged at the top, as if that part had been cauterized and the other stitched. Then there was his brand, that terrible brand in the left side of his chest. She wondered if Dagur had put it over his heart on purpose as some twisted confession of love to him.

She wondered if there were other scars on him, if there were ones on his back she couldn’t see, if his pants hid some on his legs. She wanted to know his body again, even if it had become ravaged like this. She slid her free hand around to his back, wondering if she would feel anything different, and she did; she definitely did. She held in a gasp, words of horror, and she was glad Hiccup had his eyes closed so he wouldn’t see the expression on her face. His back felt absolutely _ruined_. She trailed her fingers over it, hoping to find an end to the scars, to maybe be able to really tell where one ended and another began, but there was no change. Just scarring on every inch of skin.

Astrid said nothing about it, realizing that that would ruin this. She didn’t want to bring up Dagur or what he’d done just now. She wanted for Hiccup to have his pleasure at this, to enjoy it, and he most definitely was. He leaned back on his elbows, eyes closed, mouth open in moans, a pure look of satisfaction and bliss on his face. It looked strange among the drying tears. 

Astrid drew her hand away from his back and around to his front, stroked over his abdomen. She was finding that, even with his body like this, she wanted him, but she refused to act on it. He’d said he wanted her to fuck him, but any position they did it in would hurt his hips. Even if he wasn’t hurt, she didn’t know if she could do that in good conscience. Something didn’t feel right about it, especially since he seemed very confused on the whole idea of consent.

Thinking of that, she drew her hands back, and Hiccup made a pathetic whining sound, opened his eyes to give her a questioning look.

“Wh-why are you stopping?”

“This doesn’t feel right,” Astrid told him.

“Why not?” There was a slight anger to his words, and he sat up straight.

“I don’t feel like it’s true consent,” Astrid explained. “Not when you’re dependent on it like this.”

“Astrid, come on. You can’t seriously think you’re _molesting_ me.” He sounded incredulous. This other Hiccup looked terribly desperate, but as she watched the real Hiccup came back into his eyes, and he was desperate too. There was need there, pain.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, okay?” She stood off the bed, backed away from him. “But it doesn’t feel right.”

“Is it because of this?” Hiccup touched the brand. “Is it because you’re not supposed to?”

“No, that doesn’t matter.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s… It’s because it’s not _you_ ,” Astrid realized. “I touch you and that other version shows up and you just disappear somewhere. I’m not going to touch you like that unless it’s truly you. You have to fight it. You have to _stay_.”

Hiccup looked away from her, jaw clenched. “I can’t.” He shook his head. “No, I can’t. I _can’t_.” He whimpered, and there were tears in his eyes again. His hands were in shaking fists. “Just help me, _please_. H-he’ll go away once I finish. I promise.”

“Hiccup, I can’t.”

He turned a glare on her. She’d never seen such a cold expression on his face before. 

“Then get out.”

“Hiccup-”

“I said get out!”

Astrid froze for an instant before doing just as he said. It was probably best if she left anyway. There would be no talking with him right now. Once outside in the dark and the cold, she leaned back against the door, taking deep breaths, trying to pull herself back to reality. What had happened in there didn’t feel real. How could it when Hiccup hadn’t even been real?

Then she headed off towards the stables, deciding she needed a flight on Stormfly to clear her head.

 

Hiccup didn’t know what to do after Astrid left. He felt stupid, pathetic, and he just wanted to cry, but there was still that need raging through him. He wanted to ignore it, but he knew he couldn’t. So, he wrapped his hand around himself and began stroking. Astrid’s hands were too small anyway, he figured. He’d gotten used to Dagur’s, so now anything else seemed strange in comparison. 

He was mad. He wasn’t used to that, wasn’t used to being denied. Dagur had always given him just what he wanted, but now he had to beg and cry and plead for it, and even then, that hadn’t worked. How was he supposed to reason with Astrid over this? How was he supposed to convince her that it was okay to touch him like that? Did she see him as too broken to make his own decisions?

Hiccup shouted. It was out of anger. Out of need. What he was doing with his hand wasn’t enough. It could never be enough. He needed someone else, needed a mouth on him like Astrid’s had been, needed someone inside him, stretching and filling him. Astrid could do that for him too. She could use her hand. He could show her where exactly he wanted to be touched.

But it wouldn’t matter. None of it would matter if she just refused to touch him in the first place.

Even though it wasn’t nearly enough, he came anyway, and in his head was Dagur’s voice praising him for it. Once he was done he just laid down on his back, not caring about the cum on him, or that his cock was still exposed. He could take care of all that later. For now he just laid on his back and tried not to cry. It was an utterly stupid thing to cry over. He knew that. He knew he was ridiculous and pathetic, but he felt like he couldn’t help it. Was it his fault really? Dagur had preyed on his body’s need for sex, and he’d grown accustomed to it. Now he had no one that would take him like that. Did Astrid not see that it would be a mercy to just do it for him, that he would suffer worse without it?

He wanted to hate her, but he couldn’t. He figured it would take a lot for him to hate Astrid. As he lay there he even began thinking he should apologize. Maybe she was right. Maybe it wasn’t true consent unless the _real_ him was there for it. Now, laying there, fully in control of himself, he felt like he didn’t want it, and he even shuddered for having been touched by someone else. Touch was a thing this true version of him didn’t want. But was it really the true version? Who was he really?

Hiccup groaned in distress, beginning to get a headache from thinking about all this. He figured maybe he should try to write about it at some point, but not now. Now he needed to clean himself up, and to do so he found himself back on the floor. He wanted his prosthetic, but he could understand the reluctance to give it back to him while he was hurt like this. He doubted he would stay put if he could walk, and that wouldn’t help his healing in the least. 

Or maybe not. He was hurting so bad he wanted to just drink something that would knock him out for three weeks. That would be preferable. He wouldn’t have to interact with anybody. Though, the closest thing he could do was ask Gothi for something to ease the pain, but he didn’t want to do that. Herbs and potions prescribed for pain usually distorted the mind, and he couldn’t do that, not after his experiences with nutmeg. Nothing would be nearly as powerful as that, but it still wasn’t something he was interested in. The only form of mind-altering substance he would accept at the moment was alcohol. Yes. Alcohol would be good. Maybe he could get someone to bring him some. When his dinner was brought he could ask.

After cleaning himself off, Hiccup ended up searching through one of his chests, looking for something. He wasn’t entirely sure of what it was until he found it: a sheathed dagger. He unsheathed it, unsure if he planned on using it or not. He felt like he deserved pain for a number of reasons, felt like it would relieve something inside of him. He was poisoned inside, poisoned by a multitude of things - lust and hatred beyond measure - and the best way to get rid of poison in the blood was to bleed it out of someone. He wondered if it would work with a poison like this.

Hiccup held out his right forearm, put the blade to it, ready to press down and slice through his own flesh like he needed to.

There was a knock on his door.

_Shit!_

Hiccup pulled the dagger away, hurriedly sheathed it. He looked at it, wondering if he should take it with him. He decided quickly, began crawling for his bed with it in one hand. He had to get his shirt on.

“Hiccup, it’s Fishlegs! I have dinner for you. Can I come in?”

“Give me a minute, Fishlegs!”

He felt panicked for some reason, feeling like maybe Fishlegs wouldn’t listen to him and he’d just barge in, but then Hiccup was back in bed, his shirt on him and properly covering everything. The dagger was on his desk. If it was asked about it he could just say he needed it to sharpen the charcoal. That wasn’t a complete lie. If he wanted to keep writing he did.

“You can come in!” 

By the time Fishlegs came up the stairs, Hiccup was sitting on the edge of his bed, washing his hands in the wash basin on his desk. He was again reminded of how he wanted a bath, but that would have to wait for when he wasn’t so injured.

Fishlegs set the tray he was carrying down on the bed. “Hey, Hiccup.” He looked around. “Where’s Toothless?”

“Heather took him for a walk,” Hiccup responded. He dried his hands on a towel, then swung his legs onto his bed. He gritted his teeth, tried not to let out a groan at the movement but it came anyway. He went to reach for the tray, but Fishlegs had grabbed it and was putting it in his lap for him. “Thanks, Fishlegs.”

“No problem.” He pulled out the chair from his desk, turned it to face him, and sat. “So how are you doing?”

“I… I don’t know.” Hiccup wasn’t about to tell Fishlegs that he’d been planning on hurting himself right before he’d come in. He wasn’t going to tell him about what had happened with Astrid and that other version of himself. “Hips hurt, I guess.” He hadn’t told him what exactly the injury was or how it had come about, but there was no hiding that he was injured there.

“Have you asked Gothi for anything to ease the pain?”

Hiccup shook his head, his mouth full. He swallowed. “I don’t want drugs or herbs or anything.”

“Why not? It could help.”

Hiccup frowned, looked away from him. “He drugged me a few times,” he answered quietly. “And I know nothing I take for pain will ever be as strong as what he gave me, and that no one will take advantage of me, but it just scares me.” He looked back to Fishlegs. There was a sad expression on his face.

“I’m sorry he did that, Hiccup.”

Hiccup shrugged, like it wasn’t that big of a deal. “Don’t apologize. Wasn’t your fault.”

“Do you know what he gave you?”

“Yeah. Nutmeg.”

Fishlegs raised his eyebrows. “Nutmeg? But that’s common. We use that in baking and cooking and things like that.”

“The amount used for that isn’t harmful,” Hiccup explained. “He gave me a lot of it. It’s… It’s bad. It’s really bad. I couldn’t really move or talk for almost three days after.” His voice lowered. “And he just did whatever he wanted with me.” Granted, Hiccup couldn’t remember much of what had happened after the initial night of his second drugging. He remembered not liking his own name, and a pain inside him like none other, but that had been it. That was probably due to the fever that had taken him not long after. That whole part of his captivity was just a daze to him.

Fishlegs was silent, clearly not having anything to say to that, and that was fine. The horror on his face said enough.

“So, um, I actually have a question about plants,” Hiccup said, changing the topic.

“You do? I mean, you listen to me talk about it, but you’re not much of a plant guy.”

“Eh, guess I’m just curious.”

“So what’s the question?”

“Do plants ever get infections?” Hiccup knew where he was going with this. He couldn’t talk directly to Fishlegs about his other self, but he could guise it as something else and still get the answers he was looking for.

“Yeah, sometimes.”

“And what do you do if that happens? Not like you can give a plant medicine, right?”

“Nope, you can’t,” Fishlegs answered. “Infections come about and thrive for certain reasons. It’s because they want something and they’re being given whatever it is they want. To get rid of it you have to take that away. Even better would be to give it the opposite of what it wants. So if the infection likes the shade, you give it light.”

Hiccup nodded to show his understanding. “Makes sense.” He thought for a moment, though, he didn’t think there was anything opposite of what that other him wanted. What was the opposite of sex? “But what if there is no opposite of what it wants, or you can’t give it the opposite? What then?”

“Deprive the infection of whatever it wants and hope for the best. The chances of the infection going away by just depriving it are lower though.”

Hiccup was scared now. What if there was no getting rid of that unthinking, sex-addicted, animalistic side of himself? “What if the infection’s too strong?” He knew the answer, but he had to ask anyway.

“Then it completely takes over the plant and kills it.”

Hiccup looked away from him to hide the fear and dread that was no doubt in his eyes. That other side of him was strong, relentless. He knew that, had he been with Dagur any longer, it would have completely taken him over, and he would have been nothing but his needy slave that was happy to be with him and do whatever he said. Now, even without Dagur, it was trying to take over, trying to win and destroy him, push him out of his own mind and body. He had to somehow deprive it of what it wanted, fight it, but fighting it wasn’t easy. Fighting it was painful. Somewhere inside he didn’t want to fight it, just wanted the easy way out. He’d been struggling so much for months now, and he just wanted the struggling to stop.

“Why are you asking about all this?” Fishlegs questioned after some time in silence. “We are just talking about plants, right?”

“Yeah, we are. Just asking out of curiosity.” Hiccup went back to eating, but then asked: “Is it possible for you to get me alcohol of some sort? Something strong like ale, maybe?”

Fishlegs shifted. “I don’t know, Hiccup…”

“Why not? It’s not like we all haven’t gotten drunk before.” Fond memories of drinking and laughing with the rest of the Dragon Riders after a successful mission entered his mind, and though they were good, they hurt a little, like needles in his chest.

“I guess I could,” Fishlegs said. “I just don’t know if you getting drunk is the best idea. Doesn’t seem like the best way to cope with things, you know?”

“Well, if you have a better way for me to cope with it, go ahead and tell me.” Hiccup was being honest here. He was open to anything that would be better for him than getting drunk. Getting drunk felt good though. He was used to getting drunk. Dagur fucking him hadn’t been so bad when he was drunk, and usually helped to wipe his memory of the incident. Now he just needed it to stop thinking, stop the pain he was feeling.

“You could… I mean…” Fishlegs trailed off, brow furrowed in thought. Then he sighed defeatedly. “Yeah, I don’t have anything. I’ll get you some after you finish eating, okay?”

“Thank you.”

 

Hiccup was well past being drunk when Heather brought Toothless back. Fishlegs had left a little while ago, and luckily Heather didn’t stay after asking him how he was doing and getting nothing but an incoherent mumble in return. Toothless looked at him oddly, sniffed him, then laid his head across his legs.

It was strange being drunk without Dagur there. As he laid there on his back, he expected him to come over, climb on top of him, kiss him and take his clothes from him. And Hiccup wasn’t sober enough to stop him, would just let him have his way with him, would let the pleasure take over his body and mind. His thoughts would stop and he would slip into unconsciousness before Dagur even left his body.

But none of that happened. He just laid there with Toothless’ head on his legs. Thoughts drifted around him, and every time he would try to reach for one it would just slip away, so eventually he gave up with that. Who needed thinking? Who even needed consciousness? He was too tired and out of it to even fear nightmares, and so he fell asleep, feeling relaxed for once.

 

Dagur held Bryn in front of him, a knife pressed to her face, and Hiccup fought as hard as he could against everything binding him. He knew what was going to happen, knew that he was going to kill her.

He cut her once. Twice. Her pained screams drilled like spikes into his ears. Then he killed her. Not with the knife though. He snapped her neck. The crack was loud, sickening, and for a moment he couldn’t breathe, like his own neck had been snapped.

He screamed, screamed so hard and loud he was surprised his sides didn’t split from it. Dagur wasn’t done yet. Now he held Astrid, and he snapped her neck too, threw her body down next to Bryn’s like it meant absolutely nothing to him. Hiccup kept screaming, didn’t know how to stop. He was surprised he could see through all his tears.

Next was Toothless. No one was fighting Dagur for some reason. They were all just letting Dagur do it, and Toothless was the same. He bared his throat to Dagur, and he slit it, blood gushing out all down the front of him. Toothless dropped, the ground trembling with his weight. Dagur laughed. Hiccup bellowed.

It went on like that, Dagur slaughtering everyone he loved and cared about it. Hiccup fought against his ropes, his chain. He wanted to die too, wanted to die so badly. Each death was agony like he’d never felt before. He wanted Dagur to just walk over and stab him too. He couldn’t believe this was happening, couldn’t believe that he was useless to stop all of it.

His dad was the last to die. Dagur killed him with his axe, chopped his head right off. He threw it down in front of Hiccup, and Hiccup could no longer scream. He choked on it, stopped breathing. Then he tried to pull in a breath, to start screaming again, but it wouldn’t work. He tore his eyes from his dad’s, looked around at the carnage all around him, at every single one of his friends. His heart pounded in his head as a cruel reminder that he was still alive.

Then he looked to Dagur. He was practically wading through blood to get to him. He leaned down, took him by the jaw. Hiccup wanted to shout at him, spit in his face, try to bite him, but then Dagur kissed him and the only thing he did was kiss back.


	86. Chapter 85

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took so long to get this one out here because I have a lot going on in my life right now. I just finished up midterms, but I'm also having problems with my health and some crazy stuff going on family-wise. Then there was some other drama that ruined my motivation for a while. But screw all that. I got the chapter finished. Thank you all so much for reading and for your kind comments! They really make my day!
> 
> And what's that? Consensual super gay stuff in this chapter? You bet!

“I take it things didn’t go well with Hiccup,” Heather said as she entered the hut to find Astrid laying on her back with her hands folded behind her head, staring up at the ceiling. 

“What makes you say that?”

“I tried talking to him when I brought Toothless back and he was too drunk to say anything coherent,” Heather answered. She sat on the bed near Astrid, began undoing her braid. It was slightly damp, as it had been snowing lightly when she’d gone out. She hadn’t minded the walk with Toothless though. After all that Hiccup had told her, it had been good to just walk around and think. “Can I ask what happened?”

Astrid rolled onto her side to look at her. “I don’t really want to talk about it. It’s complicated.”

Heather almost asked if Hiccup was going to be okay, but she stopped herself. Everyone was unsure about the answer to that question. She shook her hair out once the braid was undone, combed her fingers through it. Then there was another hand in her hair, Astrid’s, and she found she’d sat up and scooted closer to her.

“Do you want to talk about what he said to you?” Astrid asked. 

“No.” Heather nearly shuddered thinking about it. The numbers he’d given her for how many times Dagur had… “No, it’s too disturbing.” She tried to pull her mind from that, to focus on how it felt good to have Astrid gently trailing her fingers through her hair. But then her mind went to other things. She was going to be having a meeting with Stoick and both of their councils tomorrow, and she was going to be asked, at least by her council, what to do, and she didn’t have an answer. Now that the siege was over and Hiccup was rescued, did she go back to Berzerk? She didn’t want to go back, and surely Dagur would come after them, would attack Dragon’s Edge. It was only a matter of time. She couldn’t leave Berk to face that alone.

“Something else on your mind?” Astrid had gotten very good at reading her facial expressions, even when she thought she had them schooled into being passive.

“Thinking about the meeting tomorrow,” Heather responded. “I should have thought of a course of action by now, but I haven’t.”

“Heather, I think the Berserker council will be understanding of why you haven’t thought of something just yet,” Astrid answered. Her other hand snaked around, rested comfortably on the swell of her child. She liked Astrid’s hand there. It felt right, safe. The last hands touching her here had been Dagur’s and she hadn’t given him permission to do that. Granted, it was abundantly clear that he didn’t need people’s permission to do the things that he wanted. Astrid had gotten her permission for this a while ago, and there was no need to revoke it. Her touch here was comforting.  
“Going on that mission while pregnant took a lot out of you. You still need to rest. We’ve only been back a day. _And_ you need to stop putting off seeing Gothi.”

“I think she’s probably going to hit me over the head with that staff of hers for going with the rest of you to rescue Hiccup,” Heather said, trying to sneak amusement into her voice. She didn’t feel it though. She was nervous to see Gothi for some reason. Would she somehow know who the father was? Would she just give her a judging stare? Something about that seemed worse than words.

“If it keeps you from putting yourself and the baby in dangerous situations, I’ll let her do it.”

Heather sighed. “Come on, Astrid. There wasn’t much of a choice. I was the only one Dagur trusted, so I had to go.”

“Okay, yeah. Sorry.” Astrid kissed her cheek. “What you did was really important and I’m so grateful to you for it.” She moved in to kiss her on the lips, but then paused. “Hiccup told you it was okay too, right?”

“Yeah, he did.”

“And do you still want to?”

“Yeah. Do you?” Heather didn’t know why she asked that question. The answer was clear with Astrid’s lips hovering hardly an inch from hers.

“Of course.”

They kissed deeply, passionately. It felt good, like they were releasing their shared stress through it. Heather sighed, felt her shoulders drop and relax, hadn’t even realized how much tension they’d been holding. Eventually she found herself laying on her side, pressed against Astrid, their arms around each other. She ventured a hand under Astrid’s shirt, trailed her fingers over her muscled stomach before reaching higher to the bindings around Astrid’s chest. She’d never touched her like this before, but she’d wanted to for a while. Heather had just never felt comfortable to take that next step without Hiccup around and knowing and approving of their relationship. Astrid hadn’t either, but now she leaned into her touch, moaned a little against her mouth. Heather took that as a favorable sign and gently kneaded Astrid’s breast through her bindings. 

Astrid gasped a little, pulled back, and for a moment Heather feared that she had done something wrong, but then she saw the open-mouthed smile on her face. 

“I’m thinking this would be easier if we didn’t have anything on,” Astrid said. The look of lust in her eyes was a beautiful one, and Heather was glad she was finally getting to see it. 

“Good idea.” Excitement fluttered in Heather’s belly and her breaths were coming in pants. She was finally doing this. _They_ were finally doing this.

They both stood off the bed, and Heather helped Astrid undress first. Once her clothes were off and on the floor, she took a moment to admire her body. She loved her curves, her muscle, her freckles. She was beautiful. She found herself idly wondering if this was what Valkyries looked like. She reached out and touched her, ran her hands over her hips and waist, and she wanted to keep touching her, but Astrid was tugging at her shirt and she had to lift her arms to let her take it off of her. Heather wasn’t wearing any bindings, as such a thing would have hurt her swelling breasts, so that was one less layer to tackle. Astrid knelt and kissed almost reverently at her belly as she tugged down her skirt and her leggings. It made Heather smile. Her baby wasn’t going to need a father to be raised well. 

Then Heather was stepping out of the rest of her clothes and Astrid stood, lightly caressed her waist.

“Heather, you’re beautiful.”

“You think so?” Heather hadn’t really questioned her own beauty before, had recognized her own looks for what they were, but with the changes her body was going through with pregnancy, with how much she’d hated all of this till recently, she’d found herself ugly. And since her hatred had dissipated, she hadn’t had the time to re-evaluate how she felt about herself and her body.

Astrid nodded, and Heather smiled.

“You’re beautiful too.”

They were kissing again, finding their way back over to the bed. Heather ended up on her back with Astrid carefully leaning over her. The hand Astrid wasn’t supporting herself with was running over her body, very gently fondling her breasts. Then her hand ran down over the curve of her belly, dipping between her legs, and Heather sighed against her and opened them for her. She let Astrid slide her tongue into her mouth as her fingers rubbed against her clit and sparked a liquid fire into her veins. Her touches were so gentle, but so sure. She knew what she wanted and she was going to get it, and Heather wanted it as well.

Though, after a time, Astrid withdrew her mouth from hers. “Is this okay?” she asked, lips still almost touching hers.

“ _Mm…_ yes.” Heather arched into her fingers, and they ran down, two entering her rather easily.

“Gods, you’re so wet,” Astrid breathed, and there was a husky tone to her voice that only added to Heather’s arousal. She moaned as her fingers slid slowly in and out of her, tilted her head back and closed her eyes. Astrid’s mouth touched her neck.

“No marks, please,” Heather gasped out. “I have that meeting tomorrow.”

“You got it, chief.”

Heather didn’t bother correcting Astrid in saying that she wasn’t her chief. She admitted that she liked her title being used in a situation like this.

Astrid curled her fingers as she kissed at her throat, finding a particularly good spot, and Heather bucked into her with a gasp. Then her thumb was working at her clit. She’d never reached orgasm so quickly before, but it wasn’t long before her walls were clenching around Astrid’s fingers and she was arching and her toes were curling, pleasure bursting from her center and racing into every part of her. It pulled a rather loud moan from her that she was just fine with Astrid hearing. She wanted her to hear it, wanted her to know how good she’d made her feel. 

Then Astrid was removing her fingers and Heather let herself go limp against the mattress, panting, her walls still clenching and unclenching. Astrid had stopped kissing her neck, probably to study her face, and Heather found herself blushing a little. Once her orgasm faded away, she opened her eyes to meet Astrid’s.

“Was that good?” Astrid questioned.

Heather smiled widely. “Don’t be ridiculous. That was better than good.” She lightened her hold on Astrid’s hips, hadn’t realized that she’d been gripping her so tightly. For a moment her mind became a terrible place, went to the injuries Hiccup had from Dagur constantly holding him too tightly, but she quickly shoved them away. Now wasn’t the time for that. Now was the time for Astrid. “Your turn.”

Soon, their positions were reversed, with Heather on top of Astrid. Her hair fell over her as she kissed her mouth, and then down, over her neck, her collarbone. She paid special attention to each breast, lapping and kissing at her hardened nipples. Then she trailed kisses down over her stomach until she was between her legs and burying her face against her. Astrid grabbed at her hair as she worked at her with her mouth. She’d never done this before, but it wasn’t hard to imagine what would feel good for her. She zigzagged her tongue over her folds and up to her clit, then back down, finding that she liked the taste of her. She trailed heavy, open-mouthed kisses over her before dipping her tongue between her folds and inside her, nose rubbing against her clit. Astrid moaned, moved into her, held on harder to her hair.

Heather happily worked Astrid to orgasm with her mouth. She shuddered with it, moaning out her pleasure and Heather’s name. Heather made sure to lap up all her juices before climbing back up her, hoping Astrid wouldn’t mind kissing her with her own wetness on her lips. She didn’t. She lifted her head, kissed her first, hands caressing her back. 

When they pulled away to breathe, Heather rolled off of her, laying on her side. They were both gasping for breath. Astrid’s cheeks were flushed. There was something about the way she looked post-orgasm that made her even prettier than before. Maybe it was the smile. They were silent, just looking at each other, Astrid idly playing with her hair. Then she spoke:

“Thank you, Heather. I think I really needed that.”

“Yeah, me too. So it was good?” She knew it was a stupid question, but she had to ask anyway, just to make sure.

“Of course it was!” Astrid answered, sounding incredulous that she had asked such a thing. “Have you ever done that before?”

“No. You’re the first.”

“Well, you’re pretty damn good at it.”

“Thanks. And you’re not so bad with your hands.”

“Not so bad? That’s all you’ve got?”

Heather rolled her eyes. “You’re way better than ‘not so bad.’” She kissed her again, light and quick. “This was great, Astrid. Thank you.”

“No problem.” Astrid sat up, but only to reach for the blankets and pull them over the both of them. They could clean up in the morning. Once covered, Heather snuggled into her, closed her eyes.

“Love you, Astrid,” she told her sleepily.

“Love you too, Heather.”

 

Hiccup wanted to scream. Dead. They were all dead. 

He didn’t scream though. He just laid there, shuddering and sweating, tears running freely. He had no one. No one but Dagur. He’d killed them all.

Then he began to piece things together. What he was laying on wasn’t the cot covered in furs that he’d gotten used to. No one was touching him. He was wearing clothes. He wasn’t with Dagur. He was… home? It had just been a dream.

There was a snort above him, and he opened his eyes to see a mass of black against the surrounding darkness. Then green eyes came into focus. Toothless.

“C-come here, bud.” His words came out a little slurred. He was still drunk. He wondered somewhere in the back of his mind when the hangover would kick in.

Toothless rested his head on his chest, and Hiccup clutched at him tightly, breathing deeply, trying not to cry. Alive. He was alive. If he was alive that meant that everyone else was alive, everyone… everyone but Bryn.

He let himself cry now, but he didn’t just cry: he wailed, not caring if it could even be heard outside his hut. Now, holding Toothless to him, he realized that he hadn’t really allowed himself to mourn Bryn. Or, Dagur hadn’t allowed him to. He’d felt a lot around Dagur, but he hadn’t been allowed to feel it to its fullest or show that he’d been feeling it. Dagur had tried to control his emotions as best he could, and not allowing him to mourn Bryn had been part of it. He’d screamed with everything he’d had right after her death, and he’d gone silent for her, but he hadn’t truly mourned her.

He missed her. He missed her so much it was hard to fathom. He woke each day, part of him still expecting to see her, but each day she wasn’t there, and she never would be. She was dead. Dagur had killed her, and it was his fault. If he’d just never talked to her in the first place, never befriended her, never kissed her… He’d be dead probably, but at least she wouldn’t be. She’d been the only thing standing between him and suicide, and without her that was exactly what he’d tried to do, what he found himself wanting to do now. He should just die. It’d be better for everyone if he was dead.

Toothless rumbled at him in concern, and it drew him from those thoughts. It wouldn’t be better for Toothless if he was dead. Toothless loved him, and it was an uncomplicated love, a love that wouldn’t hurt him. 

Bryn had loved him too, he figured. She had and now she was dead for it. Who else would die because they cared about him? Would Astrid die? His father? Everyone like in his dream? 

But Bryn was the only one that was actually dead. The sound of her neck snapping came back to him, the sight of her life leaving her, fleeing from her eyes, her body dropped carelessly to the ground in front of him. He remembered how he’d tried so desperately to just _will_ life back into her, and he wanted to do that now, wanted her to be alive and safe and with him. None of that mattered now. He hadn’t been able to do anything to save her then, and there most certainly wasn’t anything he could do now. All he could do was hold Toothless as tightly as he could and let out his sorrow through his voice and his tears. 

He knew that, despite all the marks on his body and what they meant, despite how much of a disaster Dagur’s touch had turned him into, killing Bryn was the worst thing he’d ever done to him. He’d taken his only source of light and hope and broken it in front of him, in turn breaking him. He knew he was broken, so utterly broken, and he wondered if there would be any coming back from it, if there was any chance of recovery. Bryn had been the last thing holding him together. He’d been a dented, rusted-over piece of equipment that was ready to fall in on itself, and she’d been the last good nail in the whole thing, the last piece holding it together, and when it was removed he’d fallen apart, and now he was nothing but busted-up pieces that could never be put back together in the right way to resemble the thing it had been before. He wasn’t just mourning Bryn now. He was mourning himself, the self that he had used to be, the self that had chipped and crumbled away with each one of Dagur’s touches and words. He wasn’t the same, and he realized that he never would be the same.

It hurt badly. It all hurt so _much_. Again, thoughts swelled up of just ending it, of just taking his own life and stopping all the misery, but they were crushed back down. He couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t. But gods, he wanted to. He hurt so much, hurt on a scale that shouldn’t have been allowed for human beings. It wasn’t _fair_. There was absolutely nothing fair about the agony he was in, and he just wanted it to stop, even just for one minute. To not be in any kind of physical or emotional pain for a whole minute would be like Valhalla to him. Would it ever happen? Would he ever stop hurting?

For the moment, he didn’t stop hurting, but he did eventually stop crying, and he tried to breathe deeply against Toothless, trying to feel comforted by his weight and his warmth against him. He’d gotten used to having someone touching him, so there was something nice about this, but at the same time, now that he was focusing on it, his skin was beginning to crawl. He didn’t want to be touched. Touching was bad, would only lead to pain and violation.

Hiccup let go of Toothless, now tried to push him off of him, but the dragon wouldn’t budge. He was just looking at him as if he was waiting for him to say something.

“Toothless, get off.” He was sure Toothless knew what that meant, but he didn’t move.

“Toothless, please.” He tried shoving him off again, but to no avail. This was ridiculous. He used to be stronger than this. 

Toothless made a sound of negation at him, shuffled closer so that his snout was almost at his chin. He was completely draped over the bed, trapping him underneath him. Hiccup didn’t like feeling trapped like this. Not at all. It reminded him too much of having Dagur on top of him. How could he explain such a thing to Toothless? 

Hiccup guessed that he would just have to deal with it, and he let his arms flop down. He frowned a little at Toothless before closing his eyes. There was nothing to do but try to go back to sleep. And, he figured that he would have had a hard time falling asleep without this weight on him anyway. He was used to physical contact while falling asleep, and not having it made it difficult to lose himself to unconscious.

He didn’t want to sleep though. He was exhausted, but he feared more nightmares, feared what his mind would conjure up for him. So, he opened his eyes again, decided that for now he wouldn’t sleep. He lifted a hand and pet at Toothless’ head. He cooed at him questioningly.

“I don’t want to sleep,” Hiccup told him. “Nightmares.” 

Toothless didn’t respond to that, and Hiccup tilted his head a little. “Do you ever get nightmares, bud?”

His friend made a sound that could have meant anything really. Hiccup wondered if he even knew what he was talking about. Maybe not. Toothless could only understand so much of what he said. He was still nice to talk to though. It was easier than talking to a person, though he still couldn’t tell him what had happened. How would a dragon, even one as intelligent as Toothless, possibly understand that?

“I used to not get so many,” Hiccup went on. Maybe telling him about his dreams would help. “But after… I mean… What else would you expect?” Toothless flicked his ears, a sign that he was listening to him, so Hiccup continued. “This one was pretty bad.” His voice cracked, and his throat hurt like he was about to start crying again, but he swallowed hard and went on. “Dag…” At the moment, he couldn’t get his name fully past his lips. “He killed everyone. In front of me. He killed you too. And then I…” He looked away, unable to meet Toothless’ gaze with the next part, even though it had only been a dream. “And then I kissed him.” He knew that it had been a dream, that the only part that was real about it was Bryn’s death, but still, he felt guilty for that. Maybe it was because it had happened before. It wasn’t as if he’d always initiated a kiss unless he’d wanted something from Dagur, but he’d kissed him back plenty of times, had intertwined his tongue with his like what was happening was perfectly normal and wanted. 

Then Astrid had kissed him like he hadn’t done that. He’d expected her kiss to wipe it away, to cleanse Dagur’s touch from him, but it felt like a layer of filth was still there, clinging to his skin, his lips. Astrid’s kiss hadn’t cleaned the dirt off of him like he’d hoped it would. It had instead been a jewel placed on top of dirt. He felt like he was just covered in this black grime that would never leave him.

Hiccup sighed heavily, stilled his hand on top of Toothless. He didn’t say anything else, and, though he was tired, it was a long, long while before he fell asleep again.

 

Dagur had forgone the potion for pain that morning. He wanted to be in his right mind when he wrote a letter to Stoick - well, as much as he could be in his right mind with all that had happened. He was still just so _angry_ , angry at the Dragon Hunters, and especially angry at Heather. She was his sister. How could she-? He wanted to kill her. No, no he didn’t. He was certainly mad enough to, but he didn’t want to. He couldn’t kill her. He still loved her, and he couldn’t kill her now that he’d learned she was carrying their child. Gods, he was going to be a father. He hadn’t expected that, not now. He’d expected to father children when he was, probably unhappily, in an arranged marriage, not now by his sister. This baby could be good for them though. Maybe it would stop them from fighting each other. They could jointly rule the Berserkers, and their baby would be of pure, royal blood. Hel, maybe he could bend some laws and marry Heather. And he’d get Hiccup back and have him by his side as his advisor and lover.

Dagur was getting way ahead of himself. None of that seemed plausible now, with Hiccup and Heather and his child far away and a burning pain from Heather’s knife in his abdomen. First the letter. He was letting his imagination wander.

He tried to write cordially, formally. He may have been utterly furious, but he was still a chief addressing another chief, and had to behave as such. Stoick wouldn’t take him seriously if he didn’t.

Though, as he wrote, he grew awfully tempted to just taunt Stoick. He wouldn’t get to see the man’s famous temper at his words, but it was fun to imagine what it would be like. That was all he could do, because he didn’t write those either, no matter how badly he wanted to. He let himself think about it though, let himself grin devilishly at it.

_“Hey, Stoick, did you know your son’s a screamer?”_

_“He spread his legs for me like a whore.”_

_“Hey, Stoick, your son’s really good at getting on his knees for someone that was raised to be a chief.”_

_“Your son’s a whore and would rather ride my cock than a dragon.”_

Dagur finished the letter without any of those things, without any mention of what he’d gotten up to with Hiccup. He just stated that he was his and he wanted him back. Surely Stoick had seen the brand by now and knew that he’d ruined Hiccup for him, that he couldn’t be chief, that he was rightfully his property. Maybe he’d even want to give him back. Who would want Hiccup after he’d made him his? Certainly Stoick and the Dragon Riders were questioning his worth to them. Maybe this letter would be the incentive they needed to let Dagur have him back by his side where he belonged.

Another disappointment, aside from the fact that he hadn’t taunted Stoick, would be that it would take a long time for the letter to get there. Dagur wanted to use a Terrible Terror for it like Berk did, but he had no idea how they trained the dragons to do that, and training one to carry messages would probably take far longer than just sending one by boat. He was wary to trust a newly trained dragon with this letter anyway. Yes, one of his messengers would have to do just fine. 

Dagur sat back, rubbing at his wound a little. Now that he wasn’t on the potion he was thinking a lot. He realized that he probably shouldn’t just stay there. Berk and the Dragon Riders knew where he was now. He should find a more defensible place, a place that couldn’t be so easily infiltrated by such a small group. 

_Maybe I should go home._

The thought scared him. He’d never told anyone, but he’d been putting it off for that very reason. Something about going home after being away for so long frightened him. How had it changed in his absence? Had it changed under Heather? He was sure she wasn’t there now. She was with the Berkians, probably at Dragon’s Edge, and he didn’t want to attack them just yet. They were probably well defended. He figured that Viggo had probably tried an attack of some sort. That was the reason he’d been trying to get information from Hiccup: to take down Dragon’s Edge and the Dragon Riders. The fact that they were still around and had taken Hiccup from him was proof that such a thing had failed. Or maybe it just hadn’t happened and he could attack. But no. He needed a good place to fall back on if an attack didn’t work. He needed to go home now. Well, not now, as he was still recovering, but soon. Very soon. He had no choice but to go home and reinstate his rule. If there were those that would rather side with Heather, he’d have them killed or kill them himself. There could be no room for any kind of weakness in his kingdom, especially not in a time like this. There was fighting and bloodshed right around the corner, and not just because he wanted it. He could feel it. Every side was crouched and ready in a fighting stance. Circumstance had reached its limit and was about to snap.


	87. Chapter 86

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning: I think I'm a masochist for writing this chapter. It's painful.

Stoick went to see Hiccup at mid-morning. Well, he figured it was mid-morning. It was hard to tell without the sun, though it would actually be rising, sometime in the afternoon. He planned on asking him if he wanted to attend the meeting that day, though he figured he wouldn’t want to, especially since he was still recovering. Also, he wanted to check what he wanted him to say to everyone about what had happened. Better to create a lie that Hiccup knew about and was onboard with so that their stories would match up whenever they were asked about it.

He knocked on the door, waited for a moment, but there was no answer. Not wanting to be rude, he knocked again, but again there was no answer. Fear clutched at Stoick’s heart and he rushed into the hut and up the stairs, fumbling in the dark. Was Hiccup not there? Had someone taken him? Was he-? Oh. Blinking to adjust to the dark, he saw Hiccup in his bed, sleeping. Stoick felt himself begin to breathe easier. He was just sleeping. Toothless stood by him, relaxing from a defensive stance once he realized it was him.

“Sorry to frighten you, Toothless,” Stoick said softly. “I was just… I was afraid he wouldn’t be here,” he admitted. After having Hiccup taken from him, his biggest fear was that he would lose him again, and when he hadn’t responded to his knocking his mind had jumped to the worst conclusion. 

He turned to go, but then Hiccup made a pitiful whimpering sound from his bed. Toothless gave him a concerned look, flicked one ear. Then Hiccup moaned despairingly, stuttered out something that sounded like desperate pleading. Stoick’s heart was crushed hearing it. He couldn’t just leave him to his nightmare.

“Toothless, light the candles on his desk.”

Toothless very carefully did as he was told as Stoick approached the bed, and dim light came flickering to life in the room. Now he could see that Hiccup was on his side with his back turned to him, curled into a tight ball. His right hip would be hating him for that, though he’d probably gone into that position unconsciously. There had been many a time where Stoick was recovering from a wound and he’d wake to find he’d accidentally slept on it.

“Hiccup.” He reached out to touch him, but then dropped his hand, remembering how touch had bothered him. It hurt to think of why that was.

Hiccup didn’t wake and respond to him, responded to something in his nightmare instead, weakly kicking his left leg and letting out a cry. Then he screamed and Stoick forgot all about not touching him, put a hand on his shoulder and shook him awake.

“Hiccup!”

He came to, shuddering and gasping. Then he groaned, pulled the blankets tighter around himself.

“Not now, Dagur,” he said miserably. “I’m not… I have a hangover. Just let me sleep. You can- you can fuck me later.”

Stoick withdrew his hand as if he’d been burned, eyes going wide at his son’s words, stomach twisting and bile rising in his throat like he was going to be sick. He swallowed it back, cleared his throat.

“Hiccup, it’s um… it’s me.”

Hiccup made an awful moaning sound as he rolled onto his back. Stoick could see him rubbing at his hip from under the blankets as he squinted at him, face scrunched with pain. 

“Dad?”

“Yes, Hiccup. I’m here.”

Hiccup laughed, and it was a dark, cynical sound. He rubbed at his face with one still-trembling hand, shook his head. “By Thor, I must have had too much to drink last night.”

Stoick decided asking Hiccup how he’d acquired alcohol was the least of his priorities at the moment. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I mean…” Hiccup trailed off as he lowered his hand from his face, noticing Toothless who had gone to stand beside Stoick. For a moment he looked confused, but then realization began to come into his features. He groped at the blankets next to him, as if searching for something, then felt at his neck. He looked like he was about to go into a panic, but then he visibly sank into the mattress, letting out a long breath. He closed his eyes. “I’m home,” he muttered, and it sounded like it was mostly for himself. “I’m home, I’m home.” Despite him seeming to have relaxed, he was still shaking, and Stoick wished he knew what to do to comfort him.

“It was just a dream,” Stoick tried, now knowing what had been going on. Hiccup had forgotten where he was. He sat down in the chair by the bed, and Toothless went and nuzzled at Hiccup’s hand. “It’s not real. This is.”

Hiccup pet Toothless’ snout, nodded. Then he winced, put a hand to his head, seeming to regret the nod. “Oh, everything hurts.”

“How’d you get alcohol?” Stoick questioned.

“Fishlegs,” Hiccup answered.

Stoick frowned. He didn’t think he liked Hiccup getting drunk. He’d probably done that to try to drown out whatever it was he was feeling. Something about that didn’t seem healthy. He’d seen men and women get lost in alcohol before, grow addicted to it and favor it over their own lives. He didn’t want Hiccup to be like that.

 _It was just one time,_ Stoick reasoned. _He’ll probably be okay._

“What are you doing here?” Hiccup was sounding miserable again, but he was looking at him now, his eyes bloodshot, his face pale and speaking of exhaustion. He had definitely had a rough night.

“Well, there’s going to be a big meeting today, and I came to see if you wanted to go. And you know, just to check up on you.”

Hiccup slowly sat up, made a look of distaste. “Do I have to go?”

“No.”

He looked a little more relaxed at that, but Stoick could still see that he was stressed. “What are you going to tell them about me?”

“Actually, I was going to ask you what you wanted me to say about… all this. If we’re going to tell a lie, we should both be in agreement on what it is.”

“Yeah, probably.” Hiccup looked away from him, jaw clenched, clearly thinking. His hand fell away from Toothless. “Tell them… Just tell them he tortured me. And if anyone asks about Viggo say the same thing.”

That last bit sounded a little odd. They weren’t trying to come up with a lie about what Viggo had done. Viggo had tortured him and that had been it… right?

“But that part about Viggo isn’t a lie, right?” Stoick fished around.

Hiccup turned to him, tensed, and his eyes widened a little. “What? No, no, it isn’t. H-he did. He did and it was- it was awful.” His eyes got a distant look to them as tears welled up, as if he was going somewhere else in his head. “Oh gods, it was so awful. I-I wanted to die.”

Stoick wanted to reach out and take his hand, to draw him back, but he was afraid of how Hiccup would react to that, so he didn’t. There was a terrible curiosity to know how Viggo had hurt him, but now wasn’t the time to ask. Something still didn’t feel right about Hiccup bringing up Viggo, and it wasn’t just about the torture. He was sad and angry all at once. To know that his son had gone through all of that...

“Hiccup.” He said his name gently in an attempt to draw him out of whatever memory he was reliving. Hiccup blinked, looked at him. A tear rolled down his cheek. Stoick felt his chest constricting. “Is that all he did to you?”

Hiccup turned his head away from him again. For long moments he didn’t respond. Stoick found himself afraid of his answer.

Finally, Hiccup did respond. He looked back to him, tears streaking his face now, looking absolutely distraught. “No.”

Stoick felt like he’d been stabbed in the gut. His head went to the worst possible places, but he still couldn’t be entirely sure of that. Hiccup hadn’t said what he’d done.

“He didn’t… Did he…?” Stoick couldn’t make it come out of his mouth.

“He did.” Hiccup drew in a shuddering breath, his face crumpling, any hope of composure leaving him. “D-dad, he raped me.” Then he broke apart, lowering his head, hugging his arms, spluttering and sobbing.

Stoick saw red. Two men. Two men had raped his son. He’d never wanted to kill anyone so badly in his life. But he couldn’t kill them. They weren’t around for him to kill. He didn’t realize that he’d stood and thrown the chair across the room until there was a crash. He could see again. He was breathing hard. He looked to the now-broken pieces of the chair, then to Hiccup. Toothless was nuzzling his face but he was pushing him away, moaning out desperate pleas for him not to touch him. Stoick had thought his heart had been broken before. It broke again. He’d hoped Toothless would be an exception in Hiccup not wanting to be touched, but he wasn’t.

Finally, Toothless gave up, looked at Stoick sadly. They were both at a complete loss of how to comfort Hiccup. He was just sitting there on the bed crying, hugging himself as if to simulate a real hug from someone else, and Stoick didn’t know what to do. How was he supposed to comfort him? How was he supposed to help him with this? Things like this hadn’t happened to anyone he’d known before.

“I-it was to-to get me to talk,” Hiccup heaved out.

“Hiccup, you don’t have to explain.”

Hiccup didn’t seem to have heard him. He went on. “H-he wanted to know-to know how to take D-Dragon’s Edge. I-I didn’t want to tell him! I didn’t want to! B-but he said he would s-stop if I- if I told him and I j-just wanted him to stop! S-so I told him. I-I hate myself for it. I hate myself s-so much, but I wanted him to _stop_. H-he told me he would, but he-but he didn’t! He didn’t stop, dad! He didn’t _sto-op!_ Why didn’t he stop?! Why didn’t he?!”

Stoick had never hurt so much before. He’d never seen Hiccup hurting so much before. He didn’t know what to do for him. What could he possibly say to that?

“I’ll kill him, Hiccup,” he ended up telling him. That was the truth. He would. He’d make sure of it. “I’ll kill Viggo for doing this to you. I’ll kill Dagur too.” He was surprised there was no rage in his voice. There was nothing really save for cool conviction. Stoick waited for Hiccup to shake his head, to tell him that killing wasn’t the way, though he knew he wouldn’t get that. The old Hiccup would have done that, the old, undamaged Hiccup. This was a new Hiccup, and he probably wanted these men to die even more than he did.

Hiccup, again, didn’t acknowledge that he’d said anything. Stoick wondered if he’d somehow just blocked out everything and was lost in his own despair.

“Wh-why didn’t Dagur stop either?! I told him to stop! I screamed it! I _shouted_ it! I yelled and yelled and he didn’t- he didn’t listen to me! N-no one listened to _me-e-e!_ And I-I hoped and prayed f-for you and everyone else to come- come find me but you didn’t! You just _left_ me there! You l-left me with him!” There was anger mixed in with Hiccup’s sorrow now, hurt. He lifted his head, directed a glare on him. He met his eyes now, and Stoick was struck with how much he didn’t know the person in those eyes. At the moment, he didn’t see the Hiccup he knew in there, and the knife in his gut was twisted. “What took you so long?!” he shrieked. The raising of his voice and the fury in it had Toothless laying his ears back. “H-how could you have just _left_ me?! You left me! _Why?!_ Why did any- any of this _happen?! Why-y?!_ ”

“Hiccup, we… we tried. Skullcrusher couldn’t catch your scent, and then Dagur kept playing with us, leaving false trails, screwing us over.” Stoick was reminded of what had happened on the Iron Isle, of how Dagur had left Hiccup’s clothes for him to find. He’d been taunting him with that. That had been a bad day. They’d been given hope and had it utterly crushed.

Hiccup was sobbing harder now, or maybe he was laughing. It was extremely difficult to tell. It was an angry, cynical sound. “Oh, h-he was screwing _you_ over?! W-well, while that- while that was happening _I_ was being screwed by him! E-every fucking day! While you were all struggling t-to get your shit together he was _ruining me!_ ” Hiccup doubled over in what was probably very real pain, buried his face in his hands.

Stoick didn’t know what to do. He could understand Hiccup’s anger. He was mad at himself for how long it had taken to find him. He felt like they should have been able to do more, but how could they have? They’d done the best they could with what they were given, and it still wasn’t good enough. They’d gotten there too late, and Hiccup was right. He’d been ruined. They hadn’t saved him in time. Maybe they hadn’t even saved him at all.

“I-I’m sorry I’m angry!” Hiccup shouted after a time of Stoick just standing there feeling like an incompetent idiot. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I-I know y-you tried your best! I know Dagur was messing with you! A-and you had to deal with Viggo on- on top of that b-because I was weak and couldn’t keep my- keep my mouth shut. I’m sorry! I’m sorry! But it hurts, dad! Everything hurts! It _hurts!_ ”

Stoick couldn’t do this anymore. He surged forward and took Hiccup into his arms. Hiccup stiffened, stopped crying so abruptly that Stoick realized he had done the wrong thing. He didn’t want to let go though. He just wanted to hold his son.

“I’m sorry,” Hiccup breathed, now sounding terrified. “I said I was sorry. P-please don’t hurt me.”

“Hiccup, I’m not going to hurt you.” To show this Stoick reluctantly let go of him, took a step away to give him space. He figured it was hard to hold him anyway. He didn’t feel like Hiccup. He was all skin and bone. Hopefully that would change soon.

Hiccup sat there, gasping for breath, tears still running. He wiped at his face in what seemed like an angry gesture.

“Just take deep breaths,” Stoick advised him.

Hiccup nodded, winced at the pain the movement no doubt caused his head, then closed his eyes, began trying to breathe deeply. He reached out a hand, and once again, Stoick didn’t know what to do, but Toothless went forward, pressed his nose against his palm. Unlike before, Hiccup visibly relaxed at the touch. If it was possible, he looked more tired than he had before. Stoick wondered if there was something Gothi could give him to calm his mind, if he would even accept it if there was. Right now, Hiccup needed to rest, and he wasn’t resting by screaming and yelling like this. He wasn’t going to do anything without his permission though. Not again. 

“I’m sorry,” Hiccup said again after a time.

“Hiccup, you don’t have anything to apologize for,” Stoick told him. 

Hiccup opened his eyes, looked at him in confusion. He wiped at the drying tears on his face. “But I got mad. I’m not… I shouldn’t have gotten mad. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.” He looked to Toothless, rubbed under his chin. “And I’m sorry I scared you, bud.”

“You’re allowed to feel.”

“Huh?” Hiccup drew his eyes away from Toothless, to him, but Stoick got the impression that he wasn’t truly meeting his gaze. Having had to deal with a lot of people in his life, Stoick had learned what it looked like when someone was looking at his eyebrows rather than his eyes. He certainly wasn’t going to force eye contact on him though. If he didn’t want it, that was fine.

Stoick made to sit, but then remembered that the chair was now across the room in pieces. He’d have to get him a new one. Instead he just stayed standing. 

“You’re allowed to have feelings,” he told him. “You’re allowed to show them. No one here is going to reprimand you or hurt you for it.” That must be what the problem was. Dagur had probably suppressed Hiccup’s emotions, punished him for being anything but submissive. Anger certainly would have earned him punishment. Stoick didn’t want to think about what kind, didn’t want to think about all the different ways in which his son had been hurt. To think that the atrocious scars on his body weren’t even the whole picture...

“I… I know that.” He drew his eyes away. “I think.” He grimaced, put his hand to his head. “My hangover’s certainly punishing me for it.”

“I’ll go get you some water.” Stoick made to leave, but Hiccup stopped him.

“No! No, n-not you. I-I’m sorry, but not you.”

Stoick knew that was his fault. He’d betrayed Hiccup’s trust, and he wasn’t willing to give it back to him.

“H-have Astrid do it,” Hiccup went on. “I have to talk to her anyway. And you have to get ready for that meeting.”

Stoick nodded. “And we’re set on what I’ll tell everyone?”

“That I was tortured. Nothing else.”

“Understood.”

Stoick looked at Hiccup before descending the stairs, but he no longer had his attention. Hiccup was petting Toothless, his eyes exhausted and sad. He got a glimpse of the real Hiccup in there. He saw his son. He looked trapped and broken and defeated, but he was still his son. Hiccup was still there.

 

Hiccup laid back down while waiting for Astrid. His head hurt abominably, especially after crying like that, and so did his ribs. He felt like he wasn’t truly getting the rest he needed, but how could he rest when his mind was tormenting him while he was awake and asleep? 

“I just want a fucking break,” he muttered. “Is that too much to ask for?”

Toothless rumbled questioningly at him, tilted his head.

“Oh, that wasn’t to you, Toothless. I’m just… I’m talking to myself.” _Okay, I’m definitely losing my mind._ “Sorry for pushing you away earlier,” he apologized. “I didn’t want to be touched.”

Toothless made a sound that made it seem like he understood. Hiccup was glad for that. He didn’t want his friend to be hurt by his actions.

Silence fell, and Hiccup was given time to think about what had just happened. His dad now knew that he’d been raped by more than one person. It was bad enough with him knowing about Dagur, but now he knew about Viggo too. He didn’t know why he’d just spilled all of it out like that, why he’d told him. The words had just come out of him, taking on a life of their own. He wanted to be unburdened somehow, and maybe talking about it could do it. Talking hurt though. Talking drove him to tears. Talking let everyone know. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. Maybe he should have lied. He was sure his dad would have known he was lying though, and he would have pressed him for the real answer. Maybe he should just stop talking again, go silent like he had before. Maybe he should just write all of it and never speak a word again.

He did want to write all of a sudden, to just write everything that had happened to him to the best of his ability and memory. He was too tired though, and his head was hurting too much. All he wanted to do was sleep. But he didn’t want to sleep either. Sleep brought nightmares. The waking world was just another nightmare. There was no escape from it.

Though, Hiccup did end up dozing, his hand still on Toothless’ head. 

Dagur was there, standing over his bed, and Toothless was gone. Hiccup wanted to run, to shout, but he couldn’t do anything but look at Dagur and feel like he was falling apart.

“Dagur, please. I-I don’t…” He didn’t know what he was trying to say.

“Sh, Hiccup.” His voice was soft, so soft. “It’s okay.” He leaned over him, slowly pulled the blankets off of him. Hiccup couldn’t move his hands to grab for them and keep them on himself.

“It’s not.” Hiccup felt like his throat was closing up.

Dagur climbed on top of him, and his weight on him was so good and so terrifying all at once. It was familiar. It was right. Hiccup and Dagur were both where they were supposed to be. Together. It scared Hiccup to no end.

“Shh… It’s okay. It’s okay.” Dagur took his face in both hands, hands that part of Hiccup missed. He’d gotten so used to them always being on him, either hurting him or giving him pleasure or just simply touching him. It was strange without them. It was strange without _him_. 

Dagur stroked his thumbs over his cheeks, brushing away tears that Hiccup hadn’t even realized were there. His mouth was so close to his. All he could hear was their breaths shared between each other. The bare inch of space between their lips crackled with anticipation.

Dagur kissed him. It was gentle, loving. Hiccup could move now. He ran his hands over Dagur’s back as his tongue found its way into his mouth where it was supposed to be. Dagur’s hands moved from his face, went under his shirt.

“What are these bandages for?” Dagur asked, mouth still so close to his.

“You hurt me,” Hiccup told him.

“Hm, guess I did.” Dagur slowly dragged his tongue over Hiccup’s upper lip, and Hiccup sighed, clutched at his shoulders. Dagur’s hips began working against his, pressing his erection into him, and Hiccup would have returned the movement if his own hips hadn’t been hurting so much. His movements were slow, almost lazy, and it made Hiccup want him even more. He tilted his head back for him, moaned when Dagur touched his mouth to his throat. Dagur moaned too, as if he was tasting something utterly delicious.

There was a knock on Hiccup’s door, but Dagur didn’t stop what he was doing to him.

“Dagur, I-I should get that,” he said breathlessly.

Dagur ran a hand into his hair, gripped it tight, tilted his head more. “Just ignore it.”

The knock came again. “Hiccup, it’s me!”

“But it’s Astrid. I can’t ignore Astrid.”

“Yes you can.” Dagur bit at his throat and Hiccup dug his nails into the fabric of his shirt. “Just focus on me. I’m all that matters.”

More knocking. Louder. “Hiccup, if you don’t answer I’m coming in!”

“Ignore her,” Dagur insisted. “Stay here with me.”

Hiccup was going to answer, but Dagur was suddenly no longer on top of him. He jolted up, leaning on his elbows, gasping, his heart racing. He heard his door open, and Toothless was looking at him with concern. He barely had time to register that it had all been a dream and that Dagur wasn’t really there before Astrid was at the top of the stairs.

“Hiccup, what’s wrong?”

“N-nothing.” Hiccup sat up all the way. His head throbbed angrily at the movement. So did his hips. “I was just sleeping.”

Astrid walked over to him tentatively, held out a flask. “I brought you water.”

“Thank you.” Hiccup took it, but he didn’t drink from it yet. He knew why Astrid seemed wary around him. “Look, Astrid.” His shoulders hunched and he looked down. “About last night. I’m… I’m really sorry about that. I’m sorry about that other me and that he, well, I, forced you into an uncomfortable situation. I know too well how that is and I shouldn’t have gotten frustrated with you.”

“Apology accepted, Hiccup. And I also understand that you can’t… that you can’t really help it.”

Hiccup frowned. He didn’t want to use that as an excuse. He wished he could help it. He wished he could control his body and his urges, but he couldn’t and he had to accept that. He took a drink before speaking again. The water felt good in his throat.

“I’m thinking of a way to fix that though.”

“What do you mean?” Astrid made to sit on the bed beside him, but then stopped, and Hiccup gestured to allow her too. She sat, but didn’t get close enough to touch him. Hiccup was grateful for that.

“Well, I have to get rid of it, you know? Get rid of that other me. And giving him what he wants is only making him stay.”

“So you have to fight him somehow,” Astrid said, seeing his point. “Resist him. Are you even able to do that? I mean, yesterday you just… lost yourself to him.”

“I can’t fight him on my own,” Hiccup admitted. He knew he couldn’t. All the urges were just too strong. They _hurt_ him. Gods, this was going to be painful. “So I need you to help me.”

Astrid looked skeptical. “How?”

“Whenever I get like that. Whenever I - he - wants sex, you tie me up. Tie me up and then don’t touch me. Don’t listen to a word he has to say.” He looked at her now, to really drive his point home. “Just tie me up and _do not_ touch me.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Hiccup could understand why she was hesitant about it. He was too. To be tied up again… To not be able to do anything… To be at someone’s mercy… His stomach clenched and terror ran rampant through him. He very suddenly wanted to back out of this, to tell Astrid to just forget about all of it. He knew he couldn’t do that though. He had to get rid of this other version of himself. There was nothing good about it and it had to go. It was poisoning him. It was trying to win and take over and kill him and he couldn’t let it do that. But by the gods this was going to be difficult. It was going to be agony. Luckily, he didn’t feel the need for this now. He was too hungover to get aroused.

“It’s the only thing I can think of,” he told her. “I can’t live with that existing in me, because eventually it’ll win. This is the only way.”

“And you’re sure you can handle being tied up?” Astrid’s mouth twisted in a grimace. “I can, um, imagine he tied you up a lot.”

Hiccup drew in a shuddering breath, looked at his wrists, though the marks from that were mostly gone. “Yeah. Yeah he did.”

“So what if this gets rid of him, but harms the other part of you? This you?” Astrid questioned. 

Hiccup didn’t know what to say to that. He knew that was a possibility. No part of him wanted to be restrained ever again, especially not this more real, more human part of him. But what else was there to do? How could he possibly deprive himself of sex without having someone restrain him? Without that he’d just take care of matters himself. That was what he’d been doing. He’d only successfully fought it one time, and that was by driving himself into memories of pure agony, memories that he never wanted to relive. There just didn’t seem to be any good way to do this. Thinking about all of it was making his head hurt more, and he frowned and massaged his temple. 

“I don’t know, Astrid,” he said almost defeatedly. “I don’t think there’s any other way.”

“What if _I_ can’t do this?” Astrid asked. “We don’t know what will happen. What if I can’t handle it and untie you?”

Hiccup’s head really was hurting too much for all of this. Hiccup was almost regretting the alcohol the night before, though it had numbed him and helped him sleep.

“If I don’t try to touch myself you can leave me untied if you do end up untying me,” Hiccup said. “But, Astrid, please, don’t do it until you hear it from the real me and I’ve calmed for a few minutes.”

“How will I know it’s the real you?”

“You were able to tell the difference yesterday,” Hiccup responded. He sighed. “This is a lot to think about when I’m sleep-deprived and hungover. Let’s just see what happens when it happens, and it _will_ happen.” Hiccup swallowed, dread settling in his stomach. It would probably happen whenever his head stopped hurting so much. It would happen today. In the next few hours. He didn’t think he was ready for that struggle, for that pain. He wasn’t ready for that other side of himself to make an appearance.

“Hungover?”

“Fishlegs brought me alcohol last night. It helped me sleep till all the nightmares started.”

“What were they about?” Astrid asked gently. Her hand moved across the blankets, instinctively reaching for his hand, but he pulled away and she stopped.

“Things,” Hiccup answered vaguely. “I don’t feel like talking about it.”

“Okay. Just know that you can tell me anything.”

“Thanks, Astrid,” he said, not looking at her. He wasn’t used to this, wasn’t used to actually communicating with people and telling them his thoughts and feelings, telling them his wants and needs and having them adhered to. It was all so strange. He’d gotten so used to keeping that all silent. 

Astrid looked around the room, squinted, noticing that something was different. Then her eyes landed on the pieces of the chair across the room from them.

“What happened with that?”

“My dad got angry and broke it.”

“Angry at you?”

“No. Angry at… angry at everything.” He wasn’t going to tell her about Viggo. He couldn’t. He still couldn’t believe he’d actually told his dad. He cleared his throat, not wanting to delve anymore into the topic. He wasn’t hungry, but he knew he had to eat, so he tried sounding cheerful and faked perking up with his next words. “So, what’s for breakfast?”


	88. Chapter 87

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just want to say thank you for your continued reading and support! Your comments are amazing and very much appreciated!

The meeting was being held in the clubhouse. It wasn’t an abundantly large space, but it was the biggest Dragon’s Edge had to offer. Stoick sat at the table in the center with Heather, Hilda, Gobber, and Spitelout. The rest of Berk’s council was, well, still on Berk. He hadn’t wanted to leave his people completely without leadership during this time. Based on the letters from Sven, Berk was doing fine. Other chairs had been pulled up around the table to seat the Dragon Riders, the A Team, and two other members of the Berserker council. It was cramped, but it worked.

Stoick glanced at Heather for confirmation to start, and she nodded her head. She’d looked nervous upon arriving, but since then she’d put on a mask of cool confidence. That was good. She really did have it in her to be a great leader. He could tell it was a mask though. There was reluctance there. He understood that. He didn’t really want to have this meeting either. He was tired. He’d slept fitfully, unable to rid the image of Hiccup’s scarred body from his mind, even in sleep. He’d dreamt of how he’d gotten those scars, of the pain that had been inflicted on him. He’d woken with tears on his face and Hiccup’s screams echoing in his head. And now he was distressed from what he had learned that morning. It had been a few hours since Hiccup’s tearful admittance to him about what Viggo had done, but the passing of time hadn’t done much to lessen the churning of his stomach and the anger burning in his blood. But he couldn’t show any of that now.

“As you all know,” he started, “the Dragon Riders led a successful mission and have rescued Hiccup. Now that we have him back, we have to decide what course of action to take.”

“So we’re not allowed to ask questions first?”

Stoick nearly sighed at Spitelout’s words. He’d expected this from him, but that didn’t mean he wanted to deal with it.

“What kinds of questions would those be, Spitelout?”

“Like, how’s Hiccup doing? What was Dagur _doing_ with him for three months? Why did he want him? Did he get any important information out of him?” Spitelout rattled off.

“Hiccup’s… recovering,” Stoick answered. “He’s going to need time. Dagur was torturing him.” He hated saying it. He hated it because it was true, hated it even more because it was only part of what Dagur had done to him. “And no. Hiccup didn’t reveal anything of import to Dagur.” _But he did to Viggo._ Not everyone knew that Viggo’s entire plan had come from Hiccup. Gobber and the Dragon Riders knew that, but no one else. He didn’t want to reveal that to Spitelout. He’d probably be angry with Hiccup, and that was the last thing he needed right now.

“He was torturing him for three months?” Spitelout looked and sounded skeptical. “Don’t ya think even that maniac would get tired of it?”

“I’m not really questioning _why_ he did it,” Stoick responded firmly. Oh Thor, why he did it. _Why_ he did it. The Dragon Riders had told him that Dagur thought he loved Hiccup. That madman thought he loved him. Then he went and branded him, raped him. Every day. Hiccup had said every day. Good gods. How had he _dealt_ with it? He pulled himself from those thoughts. Now wasn’t the time for them. “What we know is that he did it, and we have to take action. His deeds can’t go unpunished.”

Spitelout just shrugged, then leaned back in his chair. “Fair enough.” He gestured to Heather before folding his arms. “And it helps that we’re in agreement on getting rid of him, right?”

Heather nodded. “He has to be eliminated. Along with Viggo. They’re both too dangerous to be left unchecked.”

“You really think Viggo’s going to be coming back?” Gobber questioned. “You Berserkers showed up and he fled with his tail between his legs.”

“Viggo’s a man who doesn’t take kindly to losing,” Heather said. “Trust me. He’s not finished with us yet.”

“Do you think he’ll reforge his alliance with Dagur?” Stoick asked her. He didn’t like having to fight them both, especially not at once, but it had to be done. For Hiccup. For Berk’s safety.

“It seems likely,” Heather said.

“Then we should fall back to Berk,” Gobber suggested. “The other half of the fleet is there, and we can’t afford for them to attack Berk while we’re not there. We can afford to lose the Edge. We can’t afford to lose Berk.”

Stoick looked at the Dragon Riders, wondering if they would say anything to defend the place that had come to be their home. Tuffnut looked like he wanted to say something, but he stayed silent along with everyone else. They understood.

“What about Berzerk?” Hilda asked. “It seems unwise to split up when faced with such a formidable force, but our home could be attacked as well. Certainly Dagur won’t be staying where he is now that he knows it can be so easily infiltrated.”

“He won’t be moving anywhere just yet,” Heather said, “but I agree that it’s a bad idea to split up.”

“Why won’t he be moving?” Spitelout asked.

“I stabbed him,” Heather answered. She looked guilty suddenly. Stoick knew why. Her goal had been to kill Dagur, but she hadn’t. Stoick couldn’t be mad at her for that. Plans didn’t always work out accordingly, and besides, he wanted to kill Dagur himself. “It didn’t kill him but he should be incapacitated for a bit.”

Stoick opened his mouth to speak, but Gobber beat him to it.

“Good, because we can’t make a move right now either.” He gave Stoick a pointed look. “We’re still recovering from Viggo’s siege. We need time.”

Stoick wanted to argue. He wanted to strike right now. He wanted to fly all the way to Greenland, stride into Dagur’s camp, and chop his head off. He wanted to unman him, tear his limbs off. Hel, he wanted to kill Dagur using the Blood Eagle. It was a practice that had ended on Berk centuries ago, but if anyone deserved it, Dagur did. Viggo too. They both deserved it for what they’d done to Hiccup, and then they could suffer in Niflheim once he was done with them.

Stoick only nodded. Gobber was right. They did need time. Luckily their enemies needed time too.

“But what after that?” Snotlout asked. He sat near Fishlegs, his posture resembling his father’s. “We can’t just sit around and wait for them to attack us first.”

“No, we can’t,” Stoick agreed. “We have to figure out where Dagur would be going first so we can intercept him. After us or to Berzerk?”

“Why would Dagur be coming after us?” Spitelout asked. “Revenge for taking one person from him? Seems petty if you ask me.”

 _Because he’ll want Hiccup back._ Stoick had to keep himself from saying this out loud. That would lead to more questions that he wouldn’t be able to answer without telling everyone about what had happened, about Hiccup’s brand, and none of that was his to tell.

“Dagur _is_ petty,” Heather said as she leaned forward in her chair, saving Stoick from having to answer. “He’ll do it. Especially if he has Viggo to convince him. He won’t come for Berk yet though. He’ll probably go for Berzerk. He’ll want someplace strong to fall back to.”

“If he’s going for Berzerk, what do we do?” Hilda asked.

“We’ll intercept him before he can get there,” Stoick suggested. It would be difficult defending two places. It would also probably mean splitting up, but Heather needed to have Berzerk. This wasn’t just Berk against Dagur. This was the Berserkers at civil war. They both needed to win, and not at the expense of the other. “Heather, it’s important that you keep Berzerk. We’ll help you win your war, and you’ll help us win ours.”

“If you ask me, they’re one and the same thing, given that we both need Dagur and Viggo out of the way,” Heather said.

For a moment no one said anything, but then Spitelout spoke up. “So are we packing up and going back to Berk then? I’m getting tired of this place.”

“Not yet,” Stoick told him. “Hiccup can’t be moved. He needs to stay in bed for three weeks. Gothi’s orders.”

Spitelout looked over his shoulder to Gothi. “Are you serious?”

Gothi narrowed her eyes a little, not liking her orders being questioned, then nodded.

Spitelout huffed, rolled his eyes. “Fine. What the Hel’s wrong with him anyway?”

Stoick tightened his fists. He didn’t like how nosy Spitelout was being about all this. “That’s not your concern.”

“Isn’t it? Isn’t it all of our concern?” Spitelout gestured widely. “He’s next in line for the throne. Shouldn’t we know what happened to him?”

Stoick didn’t know how he felt about Spitelout saying Hiccup was next in line. He wasn’t anymore, not legally. But no one that would be able to contest his rule knew about that. He could still be chief… That was something that had to be discussed when Hiccup was in a more sound state of mind… if he ever would be.

“That’s Hiccup’s business,” Stoick told him, putting command in his voice, a command for Spitelout to shut up. “And you better not go asking him about it or you’ll have to deal with me.”

Spitelout blinked a little at the force in his words, grumbled something under his breath, but then nodded once.

“Until we can get back to Berk, we have to be wary of another attack here,” Stoick continued. “Viggo could still-” He was suddenly interrupted by a loud scratching at the door. He instinctively grabbed for his axe, but he hadn’t brought it with him. Then there was a familiar lowing sound from the other side.

“Toothless?” His stomach dropped to his feet, and he hurried up to get the door. Toothless rushed in once he was allowed entry, brushing right past him and going up to Astrid. The pink light of dawn cascaded through the doorway, and usually, after this part of winter of not having seen the sun for a long time, Stoick would stop and bask in it, but now he was too focused on Toothless. Him being here meant there was something wrong with Hiccup.

“Toothless, what is it?” Astrid asked urgently.

Toothless flicked his ears, nodded back towards the door. Astrid stood, put her hand on Toothless’ head. “I think Hiccup sent him for me,” she said. “I’ll go check on him.” She made to leave.

“I should go too.” If there was something wrong, Stoick didn’t want to stay here.

“No, I think it should just be me,” Astrid said quickly. “I’ll… I’ll get you if it’s something serious. Just continue the meeting.” Then, before Stoick could protest, she and Toothless left and the door was closed behind them.

“What in Thor’s name was that about?” Gobber asked. He looked concerned, as he would be. Stoick was concerned too. He wanted to follow Astrid, go see what could possibly be happening with Hiccup. But he didn’t do that. There were more things to be discussed. Stoick sat back down, trying to recollect himself and get his mind back where it should be. Whatever was going on with Hiccup, he would be fine. He would have Toothless and Astrid, and Astrid had said she’d come get him if it was anything serious. Hiccup would be fine.

 

Hiccup groaned. He gripped the blankets tight in white-knuckles. Sweat beaded at his temples. Heat raged through his body. Voracious. Starving.

He opened his mouth to release a pained and frustrated cry, then was left panting. He couldn’t- How long had it been since he’d sent Toothless to get Astrid? He couldn’t do this. He didn’t want this, but he couldn’t fight it. He felt that other him clawing away at him, hands around his throat, trying to suffocate him and drown him, trying to win. If he could just hold it off until Astrid got there…

Hands, tearing off the blankets. His own hands. Dagur’s. Pulling off his shirt. Reaching for his pants.

“Hiccup!”

The voice stabbed through the onslaught of heat. It was a hand to help him, and he grabbed onto it, was yanked back above the surface to gasp for breath before he was going to be shoved back under. He looked, saw Astrid standing near his bed, rope in her hands. She was going to tie him up as they’d discussed. No, no. He didn’t want to be tied up. Not again. Not ever again. He just wanted to scream. He wanted someone to fuck him. He needed someone to- he needed to scream. He didn’t though.

“Astrid.” Her name passed his lips shakily, fearfully, hopefully. He was scared, so scared of what was happening to him, what he was feeling, scared of the rope she held. That other him had him by the ankle, was working on dragging him back under. The water was rushing right under his chin. He was going to drown. The rope would make sure he wouldn’t drown forever though. He needed it. He needed her to do this. “T-tie me up. Now. Hurry.”

Hiccup nearly shouted at the feeling of rope against his skin. Not again, not again! He wanted to twist away, but he knew it would be pointless. He couldn’t escape, and Dagur would still have his way with him.

Those hands weren’t Dagur’s. They were Astrid’s. And the knots weren’t as tight. They didn’t hurt. But no. _No._ He was being restrained. He couldn’t let himself-

The other him screamed inside his head. He had to restrain that thing. If he had to be tied up to do that, then so be it. But gods, the feeling of the rope around his wrists.

“Hiccup, lay down so I can secure it to the headboard.”

No! No! Why would he be compliant in his own binding?!

He almost told Dagur to fuck off before he again remembered that this wasn’t Dagur. He did as Astrid said, trying not to scream. His face was wet. Tears. Was he sobbing out loud, or was that the other him in his head?

Hiccup whimpered as his arms were pulled above him and tied to the headboard, leaving him vulnerable. He was going to be touched, caressed, beaten, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He was vulnerable… weak…

The ropes were a terrible familiarity on his wrists. How many times had he been bound? How many times had Dagur-

“Hiccup, are you still there?”

Astrid. It felt like her voice was pulling him from a fever, pulling his head up from the rushing water so he could breathe.

“K-kind of.”

“So I just wait now?” She sounded distressed.

Hiccup nodded. “And don’t touch me.” No. No, he regretted saying that. He wanted to be touched. Wanted to be touched so badly. His cock was erect and aching. All of him was burning. If someone could just touch him, make it go away. He wouldn’t be able to stop them from touching him, and now he didn’t want to either. Why would he want to? They’d give him pleasure, make this awful pain stop.

He moaned in distress. He wanted to grind on something. He tried to thrust his hips, but the movement hurt terribly, and he was forced to leave them still. Fuck, if he could just have someone reach into his pants and touch his cock. Even better: someone could take his pants from him. They felt wrong. Terribly wrong. He shouldn’t be clothed, especially not when he was like this.

He whined, twisted his head, squirmed, tugged on his ropes. Dagur was a phantom over him, hands running over his abdomen, lips touching his brand and his collarbone and his neck. He moaned and arched into it, (much to the chagrin of his injured ribs), but the touch wasn’t real. It did nothing to relieve his need, his pain.

“Dagur. Dagur, please.” Why was Dagur teasing him like this, leaving him tied up needy? How did Dagur have this much restraint? Usually he’d be on him by now, in him. Gods, he wanted to have Dagur in him. He wanted to be held down and pounded. He needed it.

“ _Dagur._ Come on, please. _Please._ ” His tears fell faster now. He was desperate. So desperate. He sobbed. “J-just touch me. Please touch me. I need you to.”

Dagur was silent. And he didn’t touch him either. He shouted in frustration, opened his eyes to look around. He didn’t recognize where he was, but he did recognize the person standing by the bed. They’d had sex before. They could do it again. Now. Right now.

“Need it,” he panted to her. “Astrid, please.”

He couldn’t discern the look on her face. There were tears in her eyes, he thought. She shook her head.

He pulled harder at the ropes. “Please!”

“No.”

He yelled at the rejection, yanked hard on his ropes. “But it hurts! It hurts!”

“ _No._ ”

He wailed, writhed. Why was she telling him no?! He needed it. He needed it so badly. He was burning and aching and it would never stop. It was like his blood was boiling under his skin. If someone touched him. If they just touched him.

_Help, help, help._

If he touched himself. If he could get free of these ropes he could handle it on his own. It wouldn’t be nearly as good as with someone else, but it would be something. It would make the burning stop.

But all his pulling was doing nothing but making his wrists sting. It was frustration so bad it hurt. Everything hurt. If someone could just touch him.

He wished he could do better than lay there and cry about it. He wished he could try to seduce. He was lusted after. He knew that. He wouldn’t have been fucked constantly if he wasn’t. If he hadn’t been injured he could use that to his advantage. He could roll his hips slowly, enticingly, bring attention to his cock. He could arch and dance on the bed and make his spectator want him. He didn’t need to be untied to do all that, but he did need hips that weren’t bursting with agony.

If someone could just touch him. Lay hands on him. Caress and stroke and fondle. Press lips to him. An open mouth. Hot and heavy. Teeth. A beard scratching. Dagur would start with his neck. Would suck. Lick. Bite. He would move down. His collarbone. His brand. His nipples. _Yes_ , right there. He would bruise him, cause sweet pain, move down. Worship him. Taste him. Attempt to eat him. His cock in his mouth. Oh _gods yes_. There. Right there. Please. _Please_. It wasn’t real. None of it was real. He needed it, he needed it. But he wasn’t getting it.

He screamed.

 

Astrid flinched at the awful sound that came from Hiccup’s mouth. She hated watching this, hated just standing there and doing nothing. But there was nothing she could do but wait until Hiccup resurfaced from this.

She didn’t want him to scream like that either though. What if people heard? She couldn’t just gag him though. That would take away his means of communication, and she didn’t want to do that to him.

Hiccup kept screaming, and Astrid was glad she had left Toothless in the stables for the time being. Had he been here, he would have jeopardized the whole thing.

But Astrid hated this. She hated this so much. It was terrifying seeing Hiccup like this, so desperate, acting like his mind had left him. Part of her wanted to untie him, give him exactly what he wanted, but she knew she couldn’t do that. If she did that this thing would just keep coming back.

Hiccup stopped screaming, body going slack, head back against the pillow with his eyes closed. Sweat rolled down his face, his neck, glistened on his heaving chest. And now Astrid just found herself staring at him through tear-filled eyes, at his brand, the rope on his wrists. How had it come to this? And Thor, his brand. She didn’t have a word to describe how it made her feel: a mix of sick and angry and sad. She felt like none of this was real, like she was dreaming. This wasn’t her life. This wasn’t Hiccup’s life.

But it was. Hiccup’s voice grounded her back in the reality of it all.

“Dagur. Dagur, please. _Please_.”

As with before when he’d begged to Dagur, Astrid felt like she was being punched in the chest. How could he have twisted Hiccup so much to make him beg for him? And it left her with questions. Did the real Hiccup want Dagur just as this one did, or were they separate on that?

 _But he can’t want Dagur! He can’t!_ How could Hiccup want him after all the awful things he had done to him, after how much he had hurt him? Why would he want his rapist?

 _It could just be this one,_ Astrid reasoned. This Hiccup was desperate for anybody, and he was just begging for Dagur because that was what he’d experienced. He didn’t _really_ want Dagur.

Hiccup made an ugly sound that was a mix between a sob and a yell. He twisted his head, sobbed again, pulled hard on the ropes. The headboard creaked with his effort.

Then he opened his eyes to look at her again. Those eyes weren’t his.

“A-Astrid, fuck me. Please fuck me.”

Astrid just shook her head. She didn’t trust herself to speak.

“It’ll be good,” he said. “For both of us.”

 _Switching up his tactic._ Begging hadn’t worked so now he was going to try talking. Astrid wiped her tears away, stiffened her lip, shook her head again.

“I know you like my cock,” he continued. The words sounded strange coming out of his mouth. “It’s nice and hard now.” Incredibly strange. Before all this Hiccup would blush and stumble over his words whenever he attempted to talk dirty to her, not look at her like this with such intent and say them without stuttering.

“Sh-shut up.”

“I’d be so good inside you,” he went on as if he hadn’t heard her. “Nice and hot. I’d let you take control. Do what you want with me. I know you like that. I know you like being in control.”

“Shut _up._ ” Astrid balled her hands into fists. She didn’t know what to do. She was beginning to think that she preferred his screaming over this.

“I’ll be good for you. I won’t fight.” Astrid cocked her head. Now it didn’t sound like he was talking to her. It hurt. To think that he’d had to fight to keep his body to himself… How many times had he told Dagur he wouldn’t fight to avoid being hurt, or maybe to have him let his guard down so he could fight later?

“I’ll do everything you tell me to. Just…” Desperation was coming back to his voice. “Just _fuck me. Please._ ”

“No.”

 

He whined, sobbed, resumed pulling on his restraints no matter how it was beginning to make the rope sting and burn against his wrists.

“Please, please!”

He couldn’t tell if Astrid shook her head or not; his vision was blurred with tears. She certainly didn’t answer him verbally.

“ _Argh!_ ” He decided to give up on her. He didn’t know what else to do to get her to touch him. He’d cried, he’d begged, he’d bargained, and he’d gotten nowhere. Again, he wished he could move to entice her, use his body that he knew was lusted after. Before all this Astrid had wanted his body, and then Dagur, Viggo. He hadn’t even had to try. Maybe others wanted him. Yes, others. His friends. Maybe they wanted him. Ruffnut had propositioned him for sex before, and Fishlegs, Tuffnut, and Snotlout had all occasionally flirted with him. Maybe they would fuck him.

But they couldn’t. They weren’t here. Later then. If there was a later. He was dying. Gods, he was dying. How was he supposed to live another minute without someone touching him?

With no other angles to play, he just cried and kept pulling at his ropes. He’d have to free himself, take care of it himself.

Then he grew too weak for that, went limp, crying softly with his face pressed into his arm. He didn’t know how much time had passed but his cock still ached and his body still burned. It was drawing all of his attention. His imagination gave him what he couldn’t get, tormented him with it. It gave him Dagur, huge hands running over him before pulling his pants from him. Then he finally, _finally_ touched his cock. It wasn’t real but he moaned anyway, loudly.

“Fuck, Dagur, yes. Fuck me.”

Dagur laughed, called him a slut, and he just nodded in agreement. That’s what he was.

Dagur worked him until precum was dripping from him and staining his pants. Pants? He thought Dagur had taken those off of him. He looked down, saw through his tears that they were still there, that there was a small wet spot near the head of his cock. He shouted angrily before letting his head fall back. Dagur wasn’t touching him. Dagur wasn’t there.

No one was going to take care of this. No one was going to touch him. No one. The realization made him want to start screaming again, but he didn’t. No point in screaming. He wasn’t going to get what he wanted.

The heat began to fade from his body. Hiccup drew in a shuddering breath, trembling, feeling like a fever had broken. That need to be touched was fading away into want, then full on repulsion. He didn’t _want_ to be touched, but he was just tied up here and vulnerable. If someone wanted to touch him, take him, they could.

“Astrid.” Her name came out barely above a whisper. He turned his head towards her, opened his eyes. Her face was white and her jaw was clenched. She looked utterly horrified.

“Is it you, Hiccup?”

“Yeah.” His throat was hoarse from yelling. “It’s me.”

Astrid just stood there, searched his eyes, and Hiccup let her, even as it left him feeling like his chest was constricting. What did she see in his eyes?

Eventually, Hiccup couldn’t handle it anymore and he tore his gaze away from her, gasping for breath. He’d been holding it. Then he heard her come over, and he tensed. She could do whatever she wanted and he couldn’t stop her. She was going to slap him, punch him, pinch and slice and stab. She was going to _hurt_ him.

“No, no! Don’t come near me!”

“Hiccup, I’m only going to untie you.” Her voice was soft.

 _Lies._ Words didn’t mean anything. People said one thing and then did another. And people wanted to hurt him. They were tempted to hurt him the same way they were tempted to fuck him. That was all he was there for: to be tortured and fucked.

“Please don’t come near me.”

“So you want to be left tied up?”

Hiccup didn’t need to think that over. No, he didn’t want to be. What if that was a threat? What if she was going to leave him here? He frantically shook his head.

“Alright. So that means I have to come near you. Is that okay?”

No, it wasn’t, but nothing was okay, and he couldn’t just be left like this. He nodded his head in a lie.

He held his eyes shut tighter as hands touched the ropes and skin brushed against his own, a whimper rising in his throat. But then in a few moments he was free. He sat up slowly, rubbing at his wrists. They were reddened and raw from his tugging. He was lucky he hadn’t broken skin.

_How am I going to explain that to people?_

Now that this was over, Hiccup felt disgusting, awful, shameful. How could he have become so lost in his own need that he needed to be restrained to be kept from acting on it?

_Dagur. It’s Dagur’s fault. I hate him._

He felt even more disgusting with sweat coating him, and even worse was that wet spot on his pants from precum. He wanted to carve out his stomach to make rid of the shame that was trying to double him over. He wanted to hurt himself, kill himself. He was just a despicable, pitiable animal that didn’t deserve to live.

“Hiccup, are you alright?”

He looked up. Right. Astrid was there. He inhaled deeply, trying to rid himself of all the bad things crawling under his skin. They didn’t go away, and he felt like he was going to burst, but he made himself take another breath.

He spoke, but he didn’t answer her question. Instead he told her: “I need a bath.”

Amazing art by [winxrus!](http://winxrus.tumblr.com/)


	89. Chapter 88

Hiccup tried to suppress his trembling as Astrid readied the bath for him. She’d let Toothless in and now Hiccup was holding him, so that was helping him somewhat. He was frightened though. He couldn’t possibly bathe on his own. He needed Astrid’s help, and that meant he was going to be naked in front of her. He didn’t want to be naked. Well, he did, because he still wasn’t used to his clothes and they were beyond uncomfortable, but he didn’t want to be naked in front of someone else. That would leave him vulnerable. That would mean showing Dagur’s name in his leg. That would mean taking off his bandages and showing her his hips and Dagur’s hands marked as bruises in his flesh.

Luckily he already had a tub in his room, nestled into the corner. Astrid was busy filling it with buckets of snow. Hiccup felt bad that she was doing all the work, but there was nothing he could do to help.

“Hiccup, can I borrow Toothless from you?”

He wanted to say no, wanted to just keep hugging his friend, but Astrid needed him to heat the water. He let go of Toothless, and he lumbered over to the tub, opened his mouth and let out a low flame. The snow melted quickly near the heat, and it probably wouldn’t be too long before the water was hot as well. Having dragons that were willing to help heat things definitely made certain aspects of life easier.

Hiccup carefully unwrapped the bandages around his hips. He ached more when they came off, and he found himself staring at the bruises on him. They covered him in splotches of purple, and then black where Dagur’s fingers had been. He carefully traced one line of bruises, what had been a forefinger, hissed a little at the pain of it.

Hiccup looked up when he heard Astrid’s footsteps, tensed when she came over, but then forced himself to relax. He’d gotten good at making his body go loose even when he was feeling as tense as ever. It hadn’t hurt so much when he’d done that.

“Um, do you need help with your pants?” She was looking at him, at his hips, but she didn’t say anything about them.

“Just help me stand.” Hiccup very slowly maneuvered himself so that his legs were over the side of the bed and his foot was touching the floor. He bristled when Astrid touched him, sliding one arm under his own, but he let her do it. Her hand came to rest on his back, his scars. She’d definitely felt those the day before, but she still hadn’t really seen them. She wasn’t looking now though, was only focused on pulling him up to stand.

_I should probably warn her first._

“Astrid, there’s something on my right leg.” He didn’t want to show her. He really didn’t want to show her, but he wanted a bath. He needed one.

“Something…?” She prompted, hoping for more of an explanation.

Hiccup couldn’t hope to make himself say it. He swallowed. “Uh, y-you’ll see. Just wanted to give you fair warning.” He let go of Astrid, balanced precariously on his one foot, reached down to pull his pants off. His hands were shaking. He didn’t want to do this. He would have asked Astrid to turn away, but now he found himself leaning his shoulder into her for support. 

_Just do it!_

Hiccup unfroze himself, began tugging his pants down. Once they were around his thighs he sat so he could pull them off all the way. He hated how much it hurt. Undressing himself hadn’t been so bad yesterday. Then again, he was moving around much more than he should have been. Maybe he should ask for some sort of sedative…

Hiccup stopped thinking about that for the time being as each rune on his thigh became revealed. He kicked his pants away, could feel Astrid’s eyes on him, lifted his head to watch her expression. She was staring intently down at his thigh, jaw tightly clenched, looking like she was going to be sick. Hiccup couldn’t blame her for that. It’d made him sick at first too. It still did.

“Hiccup, I’m sorry,” she uttered quietly. “Why’d he- why’d he do that? You already… he…” Astrid, who was almost never at a loss for words, now could hardly speak. She pointed at his brand to elaborate what she’d tried and failed to say. She was wondering why Dagur had done that if the brand already marked ownership. 

Hiccup thought about telling her, but then shook his head. He couldn’t. He couldn’t tell her that Dagur had his name tattooed in his arm, that this was his sick idea of him having a matching one. He didn’t know if Astrid’s stomach could handle that. Odd. He’d thought she’d had a stronger stomach than that. Maybe she did, but this was just beyond what any of them were used to. People didn’t normally go around carving their names into each other against the other’s will, or just in general.

“Just help me into the tub.”

Toothless came over and supported Hiccup on his other side, and with him and Astrid holding him up, he managed to get over to the tub. Getting in was much harder, and quite painful if he was being truthful, but he was glad when he was settled. Then Toothless went over and curled up on his sleeping stone to give Hiccup and Astrid some space.

The water wasn’t as hot as he wanted it to be. He wanted it to _burn_ , wanted to scald his experiences and Dagur’s touch right off of him. He wanted to set his very skin on fire to cleanse himself. No, he didn’t actually want that. He’d felt what that would be like. He’d burned, burned for hours. He didn’t want to experience that again. But if he could just drown himself in scalding hot water…

After a few moments of resting there in the tub he discovered that this felt nice. It was strange though. The last bath he’d had had been with Dagur. They hadn’t had sex. They’d just rested against each other and kissed lazily and scrubbed each other clean, not leaving until the water had gone cold. They’d had sex after, but it had been more like lovemaking, slow and almost sweet. Then Dagur had put his robe on him and cuddled with him and murmured things into his ear as he drifted off into sleep. It felt like forever ago that that had happened. It had only been a week. It was baffling how much had changed in that time. Last week he’d had Dagur, and now this week he didn’t. And he wouldn’t have him the week after that, or the one following, and so on. That was good, right? But thinking about it suddenly made him feel like he was going to panic. 

“Can I wash your hair?” Astrid’s gentle question rescued Hiccup from his mind. The last person who had washed his hair for him had also been Dagur. His whole life had become Dagur. He had to replace the feeling of him, drive him out. And hair-washing was intimate, something lovers did, something he and Astrid had done for each other on multiple occasions.

“Yes.” The word was foreign on his tongue. He’d just been saying no to everything, to everyone. He’d said no till he exhausted its usefulness. It didn’t even have any use in the first place.

Hiccup was glad she let him wet his hair on his own, that she didn’t grab his head and shove him under the water or hold him there. Though, he flinched when he came up and she began scrubbing soap into his hair, and she abruptly stopped, pulled her hands away.

“Is this not okay?”

Hiccup took a deep breath, shifted in the tub. “I-it’s fine. Sorry.”

“Absolutely nothing to apologize for.” Astrid’s hands were in his hair again, and this time he didn’t react and they stayed there. It was nice to feel her hands again, her small, slender fingers. He’d gotten so used to Dagur’s hands. Hers felt so small by comparison, foreign. He still couldn’t really get his head around the idea that they weren’t going to hurt or violate him. She could do it right now if she wanted. He was naked and vulnerable and much too weak to protect himself. She could- But she wouldn’t. This was Astrid and she didn’t want to do any of that. It was novel to him to not have someone sticking their hand between his legs whenever they felt like it, to not be slapped or punched for saying or doing the wrong thing. It was astounding really. He’d gotten so used to being abused like that that being treated like this was shocking - he found that he couldn’t wholly trust it. They were going to turn on him, hurt him the same way Dagur had, realize that he was worthless… But for now none of that happened. Astrid was just washing his hair.

“After, do you think you could cut my hair?” Hiccup asked. “I don’t like it being this long. I want it back to what it was, um, before.” His hair had grown a few inches in his time with Dagur, and he felt like it being cut could help to cleanse him of everything. He wanted his experiences to just be gone, but that couldn’t happen. What could happen was attempts to try to make things seem more normal, and having his hair back the way it had been before his capture could do that. He hoped she’d braid it too. 

“You know Tuffnut’s better at doing that.”

“I don’t care. I want you to do it.” Hiccup let his shoulders release, realizing he’d been holding them higher with tension. He was beginning to feel more relaxed in the hot water with Astrid scrubbing his hair. He was also beginning to realize how knotted his muscles were and how much they ached. He wished for a massage, but he also didn’t want to be touched in that way. It would be too much, not only for him but probably for the person doing it as well. They’d have to touch his scars. 

“Alright. I’ll do it then.”

“Thank you.”

It became silent, and Hiccup didn’t know if he liked the silence. It certainly wasn’t as pregnant with tension as more previous silences had been between them, but it was still there. 

“How’d the meeting go?” Hiccup ended up asking. He didn’t want to be left in the dark on these things.

“Toothless kind of interrupted and dragged me out of it.”

Hiccup’s guilt resurfaced at that. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Astrid told him. “You really need to stop apologizing for everything.”

Hiccup almost said sorry again, but managed to not do it. _Look at me. Apologizing for apologizing._

“Anything important get decided before Toothless showed up?”

“Well, we won’t be going anywhere just yet because you need to heal, but we’ll eventually be going back to Berk,” Astrid informed him. “And at some point we’re going to go with the Berserkers to intercept Da…” Astrid trailed off, cleared her throat.

“You can say his name.” Hiccup didn’t really want her to, but it would make conversation easier.

“You sure?”

“Not… not really. But just tell me what’s going on.”

“Well, at some point we’re going to go and intercept him.” Hiccup found it interesting that now after he’d given permission to use Dagur’s name, Astrid was avoiding it. “Heather’s pretty sure he’s going to go for Berzerk.”

“Yeah, seems likely,” Hiccup agreed. Thinking about Berzerk was weird. Until recently he’d thought he was going to spend the rest of his life there. He didn’t even know what it looked like. 

“We didn’t really come to a decision about anything after that,” Astrid continued. “Don’t know if they will. It seems hard to plan that far ahead. Plus we don’t know what Viggo’s up to.”

Hiccup tensed at his name, and shame and anger waged a sickening battle in his stomach. Shame won, mostly due to the events of that morning. His dad knew. His dad _knew_. He knew what both Dagur and Viggo had done to him. He didn’t know the details, but that didn’t matter. He knew that he’d been used for the pleasures of two men. He felt weak, so terribly weak, and in that moment he just wanted to curl up into the smallest ball he could and stop existing. 

“Sorry,” Astrid said sympathetically. “He’s probably a bad topic too, isn’t he?”

“Yeah. M-most definitely.” And now Hiccup was thinking about the pain Viggo had inflicted on him, and he unconsciously flexed his right hand. He’d never felt pain like that before, and he hoped he never would again. 

They fell silent again. Astrid finished washing Hiccup’s hair and he rinsed the soap out of it. He didn’t really need Astrid’s help with anything else - well, he didn’t want to admit that he did - but she stayed kneeling by the tub anyway. She started talking of inconsequential things to break the silence, mostly about Stormfly, and Hiccup found himself smiling at hearing her talk about her dragon. It was good to be back among people who saw dragons the way he did. Dagur hadn’t spoken of them much, but when he had it had usually been with disdain, especially when he brought up Hiccup’s love for them. He especially couldn’t stand Hiccup’s love for Toothless.

Once Hiccup was done washing, he sat up straight with his back against the edge of the tub. Astrid was definitely seeing his scars now, but she made no comment. Instead she drew her knife, and Hiccup seized up at the sound, eyes going wide. 

“Wait, wait, wait!” 

“You okay, Hiccup?”

Hiccup gripped at the edges of the tub to steady himself, and the fingers of his right hand ached a little with it. He wondered if that pain would ever go away, if his fingers would just be permanently weakened. He inhaled sharply.

“I-I’m fine.”

_It’s Astrid. She won’t hurt me, she won’t hurt me. She won’t-_

One of her hands was taking ahold of his hair, and he stiffened even more. Dagur had done that. Dagur had-

_It’s not Dagur, it’s not Dagur. Calm down._

Hiccup forced himself to relax as Astrid began cutting his hair. He just had to keep telling himself that she wasn’t going to hurt him. It was hard having a knife this close to him, a knife in the hands of someone he couldn’t control. He had no say over how it was used, if it would hurt him or not. His left side twinged, body remembering how Dagur’s knife had sliced through him, cut him open.

He felt like his fear was making no sense. Just last night he’d wanted to cut himself, bring himself pain. Maybe that was fine, didn’t scare him because he at least could control where he put the blade, how deep he cut, how much blood he would draw. He would still be in control, but with someone else hurting him he had no control, and he was tired of not having control. Pain from himself was fine. He deserved that. Pain from someone else however… But maybe he deserved that too. Maybe he just deserved to hurt for the rest of his life.

But Astrid didn’t hurt him. She just carefully cut his hair. She was right in saying that Tuffnut was better at doing this, and parts of it would probably come out a little uneven, but he didn’t care. This was something he wanted Astrid to do.

After a time, Astrid pulled the knife away.

“How’s that?” she asked. “Do you want it a little shorter or is that good?”

Hiccup reached up a hand and ran his fingers through it. It wasn’t at his shoulders anymore. Part of him almost wanted it to be shorter, to be so short that no one could run their fingers through it or grab onto it. Dagur had grabbed his hair a lot, and he didn’t want anyone else to do that. He brushed all that away though. That wouldn’t help him feel more normal. This would.

“Yeah, it’s fine. Thank you.”

Hiccup rinsed his hair one more time to get out any stray pieces from the cutting, and then Astrid retrieved a towel and helped him from the tub. She practically had to carry him, which probably wasn’t too difficult given how much weight he had lost. She carefully set him down on his one foot, let him dry off his lower half while leaning on her. 

He was shivering now, but he didn’t know if it was from cold, or from being naked around someone else. He was too vulnerable. She was going to- No. She wasn’t. She wasn’t going to do anything to him. It was absolutely astonishing to him that he was naked, and yet no one was groping at him, grabbing him, kissing him, sticking fingers in him. The memory of all of it was there though, running over his skin, and suddenly he couldn’t do this anymore. He shoved himself away from Astrid, landed on the bed, fumbling with the towel to get it to cover himself. Hands on him. Being touched. Violated. He didn’t want to be! 

Breathe. If he could just breathe through it. But he couldn’t breathe. He was gasping for air. His chest was aching. He curled into a ball. His hips screamed at him for it. He struggled to get blankets around him but his hands were shaking. He couldn’t see straight. He wanted to scream. He expected to feel Dagur on top of him, grabbing him, wrestling him onto his back, shouting at him, and Hiccup would have no choice but to have his legs wide open for him. It would be easier if he just let him in and didn’t fight. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for all of it, waiting for the bruising hands on his waist, the body pressing against his. He tried to scream, to make any sound at all, but nothing came out. He couldn’t _breathe_. Heat rushed through his veins, then tingling, numbness. He heard someone desperately calling his name but he didn’t know who it was. He didn’t want to open his eyes, didn’t want to see what was going to happen to him, didn’t want to see Dagur’s eyes. He was lightheaded, dizzy. His chest felt like it was going to burst. Was he dying? Maybe he was. Maybe the chain was back around his neck and he was going to be free. 

Something nudged at his face. A snout. Scales. Toothless. Hiccup hurriedly grabbed onto him, pressed his forehead against his nose. He inhaled, and this time it actually filled his lungs. The next breath did too, and sensation erupted back into his body. The heat and the numbness faded with each successful breath. There was a ringing in his ears. 

Hiccup just laid there, shaking, breathing, holding Toothless. The ringing left his ears, and he was able to come back to himself, realize where he was. He was on Dragon’s Edge. Astrid was with him. He wasn’t going to be hurt. Most importantly, Dagur wasn’t there. 

But gods, he was still naked, was still vulnerable. Anybody could touch him, take him.

“C-clothes,” he stuttered out, praying he wouldn’t be denied like he had so many times before. But that had been Dagur, not Astrid. Why would she deny him clothes? “Need clothes.”

There were footsteps, a chest opening, shuffling around, then the footsteps coming over to him. Hiccup almost started breathing too quickly again. He made himself open his eyes, was met first with Toothless. He let go of him, sat up, saw Astrid holding clothes out to him, her face hard, impassive. He took them, then realized that the shirt was red.

“No. No, not red.” His robe had been red. He didn’t want red. Where even was his robe? What had happened to it? He wanted it all of a sudden. He handed the shirt back, and with Toothless’ help managed to get the pants on while Astrid had her back turned. Wrong. They felt wrong. It felt wrong to be clothed, but he had to be. He _wanted_ to be. He felt sick all of a sudden. It was disturbing that he’d been naked so often during his captivity that it felt wrong to be dressed. It was _disgusting. He_ was disgusting. But Hiccup couldn’t deal with those emotions now, not when Astrid was around. She came back over with a dark blue tunic, and Hiccup took it, was about to pull it on before he remembered that the bandages had to go back on his hips. He put the shirt down, reached for them, but his hands were still shaking.

“Can I do that?”

Hiccup almost said no, but then remembered how that didn’t mean anything. Why was she even asking if she was just going to do it anyway?

“Yeah.” Better to be compliant. He’d suffer less that way.

Astrid took the bandages from him, began wrapping them around his hips. She was gentle about it, and Hiccup was grateful when the bruises were no longer visible, when part of his scar was hidden. It was ugly. All of him was ugly and ruined. 

He felt a little better with the bandages on, the pain being lessened a little. It was starting to drive him mad… if he wasn’t mad already. Once those were on he hurriedly put on the tunic. That was better. His brand was covered. His back was covered. Maybe he could pretend his scars didn’t exist if he couldn’t see them. Maybe Astrid could too.

“Are you okay?” There was emotion on Astrid’s face now: hurt, concern. Why was she hurting? Was she hurting for him even though he was worthless?

_She said I’m not worthless to her though._

“I think so.” Hiccup reached out a hand to pet Toothless, who was looking equally as concerned. He couldn’t be worthless to Toothless. Toothless didn’t know what had happened, didn’t know what the brand meant. Astrid sat beside him, and he found himself taking her hand. That felt good, having a hand each on someone that he cared about. He was safe. 

Then it hit him how exhausted he was, but he didn’t want to sleep. Well, he did, but without dreams, and he knew that wouldn’t be happening, so he didn’t want to sleep. He didn’t want to be so tired, but how could he not be? He’d fought his body, that other self, his mind. He’d struggled and tried not to drown, and had come out the other side. 

“Do you want to talk about anything?” Astrid sounded like she wanted him to talk, like there was something that was bothering her. It didn’t take Hiccup too long to figure out what it was. He’d begged for Dagur while tied up and suffering from need. She’d heard all of it. He wanted to curl in on himself as he now took the time to realize that she’d seen him like that: crazed and lustful and desperate. Pathetic. He was so pathetic.

“I… I didn’t mean to beg for him,” Hiccup said. He couldn’t look at her. He couldn’t look at Toothless. The wall didn’t have eyes to judge him with, so he looked there. “I know I shouldn’t want him.” That made it sound like he did want him, so he hurriedly continued. “I _don’t_ want him. I don’t.” He did. Sort of. Sometimes. He hated him. “But I got so used to him. That begging wasn’t me.”

“So the… other you wants him?”

Hiccup let go of Astrid and Toothless. He couldn’t touch them right now, not when he was lying to them about what he wanted and didn’t want. Though, was he lying? He wanted Dagur at the same time he didn’t. He wanted him dead. He wanted to feel his arms around him. 

“Sort of. I guess. That other me just wants anyone and everyone.” _It even wants Viggo._ “And I - it-” _How am I supposed to talk about this?_ \- “got used to Dagur fulfilling that need, so that’s what it asked for. _I_ don’t want him.” But he did. Nothing made sense without him. He didn’t know how he fell asleep without Dagur there, without his body and his breath against him. With Dagur there had been no nightmares. Though, Dagur was a nightmare all on his own. The taint of him was still there, under his skin. His skin was clean, but he couldn’t clean out his blood, his soul. He felt like if he bled he’d just bleed black. He needed to skin himself, get it out of him. The bath had done nothing to help. He didn’t feel clean. How could he ever be clean again?

“That makes sense,” Astrid said. “I was worried that, well, that _you_ wanted him.”

Hiccup looked at her now. He had to to convince her.

“I don’t.” He said it firmly, took her hand again. “I want him dead.” That wasn’t a lie. None of it was really a lie. How could he lie when it all held some semblance of truth? How could he lie when his feelings were conflicting and right and wrong all at once?

“We all do, Hiccup.”

For a while, neither of them said anything. Hiccup drew his gaze to the floor, sighed heavily.

“I’m sorry, Astrid.”

“About what?”

“About… about me. That other me. _Him._ You shouldn’t- we shouldn’t have to do this. You shouldn’t have had to see that.” Guilt rose up from the constant storm of emotions inside of him. “I shouldn’t be like this.” Those words were quieter, only a whisper. He wanted to cry, but he couldn’t cry. He’d cried enough. Crying was bad. He’d get punished for it probably. No. Wait. His dad had said he was allowed to cry, allowed to show anger, allowed to have feelings, and so far no one had gotten mad at him for openly displaying emotion. He’d cried in front of Astrid yesterday and she hadn’t hit him or yelled. She wouldn’t now, right?

But now that he’d been thinking about it he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t summon tears.

Astrid squeezed his hand. “Hiccup, it’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.”

 _It is. It’s my fault. Dagur told me so. He told me it’s my fault he likes me._ Even without Dagur telling him all that, Hiccup figured he had to have done _something_ to make two of his enemies attracted to him, and to have one of them absolutely unable to control his urges around him. 

Hiccup didn’t argue. He nodded. No point arguing when he couldn’t win or make anyone see his view.

Another silence followed, but it wasn’t very long.

“Can I braid your hair?”

Hiccup actually smiled, looked at her to show her, and she smiled back.

“Yes, you can.” He turned his head. “Right side,” he indicated. “Where you used to put them.”

“You got it.”

Hiccup didn’t flinch or shy away when he felt Astrid’s hands in his damp hair, and he learned that he didn’t have to. She was gentle, not tugging or pulling. It was actually soothing. She did two braids, like before, and then he felt lips on his cheek, quick and sweet and innocent. He pulled away, put a hand to where her mouth had been, stunned. Astrid’s eyes had gone wide.

“I’m sorry! I should have asked first.” She seemed to be waiting for him to panic, but he wasn’t feeling any of that. He was just surprised that someone could kiss him and it didn’t mean anything sexual. 

“No, I’m… I’m okay.” Hiccup felt very courageous all of a sudden. He had to try something, had to see if kissing really could be devoid of sexual feeling. He took her gently by the waist, leaned forward. His courage faltered with each inch of space that closed between them, uncertainty creeping in to take its place. but he couldn’t stop now. His lips touched hers, gently, and it felt good. So good. _He_ was kissing her. Not that other him, and he wasn’t coming up to swallow him either. It was just him. Hiccup and Astrid. 

He waited for her to try to swallow him, to feel teeth, her tongue, for it to grow ferocious and hungry, but it didn’t. She laid a hand on his chest, and at the touch he instinctively opened his legs, knew that her hand was going to go between them, that she-

Hiccup pulled away, face heating red in shame and embarrassment, tightly closing his legs. Luckily he didn’t feel arousal, was much too tired to, but had she noticed what he’d done? He hadn’t meant to do that, hadn’t even thought about it. It had just happened. He was hating himself again. He’d done that now because he’d done it when Dagur touched him. He’d opened his legs for him instead of fighting. He’d become a good whore. 

Astrid’s hand left him before he could tell her to stop touching him. “Hiccup, what’s wrong?”

He couldn’t possibly explain it. He didn’t want to. 

“It’s nothing you did,” he assured her. He looked back to her, but at her nose instead of her eyes. “I’m sorry. I need time.”

Astrid sighed a little. “You really need to stop apologizing.”

“I’ll try.” Hiccup was now feeling uncomfortable having her here. He went to fake a yawn, but a real one came out. His exhaustion was real. “I-I think I’m going to take a nap now. I’m really tired.” That was partially true. He was tired, but he wasn’t going to sleep. 

“That’s understandable.” Astrid stood. “Who do you want bringing you your dinner?”

“Um, Tuffnut and Snotlout,” Hiccup decided. “And I don’t want any other visitors.” He especially didn’t want to see his dad. Not today anyway. He could learn about the meeting tomorrow, or maybe Tuffnut and Snotlout could fill him in. 

“Got it,” Astrid said with a nod. She shifted a little, and Hiccup could sense she wanted to ask him something. 

“What is it?”

“Is it alright if I hug you?”

A hug. A hug was innocent, right? It wouldn’t hurt him?

_Only one way to find out._

“Yeah.”

Astrid came forward, wrapped her arms around him, and Hiccup froze at first, but then returned it. He pressed his nose into her hair, inhaled her scent. It was comforting to smell someone other than Dagur, to smell her again. He’d forgotten her scent. It felt like Dagur’s scent was forever living in his nose, but hers rushed in and washed it out. He hoped it would stay, that Dagur’s wouldn’t come back. 

Astrid pulled away, and her scent remained. Hiccup gave her a small smile.

“See you later, Astrid.” It felt good to say that. He would see her again. He didn’t have to say goodbye forever. 

“You too, Hiccup.” 

She left, but it was like Hiccup could still smell her, could still feel her lips soft and innocent on his cheek. He clung to those feelings. At the moment, they seemed like the only things that were keeping him from being drowned in a river of guilt and shame and despair.


	90. Chapter 89

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! _Very_ sorry about the super long wait on this one. For the past month or two I've been to hell and back again, so I just couldn't write, but I'm back now! Hope you enjoy the chapter, and comments are always appreciated!

Once the meeting was adjourned, Heather went back to her and Astrid’s hut, but Gothi and Gobber came with her. She’d finally decided to have herself examined to check her health and the health of the baby’s. She didn’t feel that strange about having Gobber there for it. He could understand Gothi, and he also knew about her feelings regarding the pregnancy. She was nervous about Gothi though, feeling that the woman would judge her, was already judging her. Was it possible she knew who the father was? Was it possible they both did?

Gothi made a gesture at her once the door was closed, but Heather didn’t know what it meant. She looked to Gobber, whose face had reddened slightly.

“Um, she wants you to undress.”

 _Great. This is just fantastic._ Heather could feel her face heat.

“I’ll keep my back turned the whole time,” Gobber told her. “Gothi, just tap on me if you need me to translate anything.”

The old woman nodded, then gestured to Heather again, and Gobber turned his back. Heather drew in a deep breath, feeling embarrassed about doing this, and began to take off her clothes. Then Gothi pointed towards the bed. At least that, Heather could understand. She laid down on her back on it, feeling exposed, vulnerable. She was terrified for some reason and she didn’t know why.

Gothi didn’t go straight to her though. She went back to Gobber, tapped him, began making some sort of hand signals.

“She wants to know when the last time you bled was,” Gobber said. The awkwardness had left his voice. He’d translated for Gothi many a time, and this probably hadn’t been the only time he’d helped her in assessing a pregnant woman.

“End of September,” Heather answered. That was one thing she was okay with at least when it came to being pregnant. Having her moon’s blood was beyond frustrating when there were things she had to do. But then again, so was carrying a child.

More hand signals.

“How heavy was it?”

Heather tried to recall. It had been months ago. “Uh, not as heavy as usual, I think. It was more like spotting here and there.”

Gothi nodded curtly, then went over to her, and Heather shifted uncomfortably. She reached her gnarled hands out towards her, and Heather wanted to shy away, but she didn’t, taking a deep breath instead. This had to be done.

Gothi handled her breasts first, but carefully, gently. They were sore as it was, so Heather was grateful for that. Then she moved her hands slowly down over the swell in her abdomen. She held them near her pelvis for a few moments, then moved on to feel at her hips. Next she lifted one of her arms and took her hand, seemingly peering at her wrist. After that she moved down, examined her ankles. Then she was looking her over, again and again, eyes tracing up and down studiously. Heather shrank a little under that gaze, but then settled back into a more relaxed state when she went back to Gobber.

“She says you can put your clothes back on.”

Relieved, Heather got off the bed and dressed, watched as Gothi gave hand signals to Gobber.

“I’m decent,” she told Gobber.

“Oh good,” Gobber said, turning around. 

“What’s Gothi saying?” Heather asked nervously.

Gothi narrowed her eyes a little, made more hand gestures at Gobber.

“She says you can actually address her, you know,” Gobber said.

“Sorry, Gothi,” Heather apologized, now looking at her. “So, um, what’s going on?”

Gothi made more hand gestures that Gobber watched closely. “She says that you’re around five and a half months pregnant and that-”

“Wait? Five and a half months?” Heather asked incredulously. She’d thought it had been four months. “What do you mean-?”

Gothi cut her off with more hand signals she couldn’t understand.

“It’s what she said,” Gobber told her. “She said there’s the beginnings of swelling in your wrists and ankles, which means you’re close to six months.”

Hand signals, then back to Gobber.

“Have you felt the baby moving yet?”

“No,” Heather reported. She hadn’t, had been wondering when that would start.

The conversation went on, Gothi using her hands and Gobber translating.

“So you’ll probably feel that soon. And you’ll most likely be having problems with indigestion and insomnia if you haven’t already.”

Heather’s mind was still reeling. Five and half months? Five and half?! She’d been so convinced it had been four. She felt shaky now, panicky. She was closer to giving birth than she’d realized. What was she going to do?!

“She wants to know who the father is,” Gobber went on. “Just to make sure there won’t be certain complications.”

Heather’s stomach dropped. She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t, ended up just shaking her head instead. Gothi gestured wildly, determined.

“No,” Heather intoned, knowing that she’d probably said something about having to know.

Gobber gently put his hand on her shoulder. “Heather, please. I know you don’t want to and I know you hate whoever the father is, but it’s better that she knows. Trust me.”

“Why would it matter who it is?”

More hand gestures. 

“Ah, certain pairings can cause… complications.”

“And how would she be able to tell what those complications are based on who the father is?” Heather asked defensively. She really didn’t want more people knowing about this, knowing about what she’d done with Dagur. She felt tears building in her eyes for some reason.

“Heather, please.” That was just Gobber this time. There hadn’t been any motion from Gothi.

“Fine.” Heather jerked away from him, removing his hand from her shoulder. She looked down at the floor. She couldn’t look at any of them when she said it. How was she even going to say it?  
_Just get it out. Come on. Not that hard. Just say it!_

Heather put one hand to her face. “It’s… It’s Dagur.” She said it quietly, but hopefully loud enough for them both to hear. There was silence after save for the sound of Gothi’s hands moving. She didn’t want to hear what it was she was communicating with Gobber, but she knew she had to. His hand went back to her shoulder, so whatever she’d told him wasn’t good.

“Heather, with that kind of, um, relationship-” Now he sounded awkward again; he hadn’t known about her and Dagur- “It’s very possible that the baby will be born prematurely and won’t survive.”

Heather jerked her head up. “What? No! It has to! It has to survive!” She didn’t know if she loved this baby, but she no longer hated them, and she didn’t want them to die. They didn’t deserve that. _She_ didn’t deserve that. It was unfair! She would carry this baby for months and then it would die upon its birth? All that time would have been for _nothing?_ All her pain, her discomfort, her suffering, none of it would matter in the end.

Her tears were coming free now. “It has to survive! It has to!” She looked to Gothi. “Don’t tell me that this baby is going to die after I’ve been carrying it for so long, after I still have to carry it! Don’t _tell_ me that!”

Hand gestures. 

“She said there are ways to induce early labor, to get rid of it now.” Gobber’s voice was sad. “So that you don’t have to carry it to full term.”

Heather frantically shook her head. “No, no, no!” She didn’t even know what she was feeling anymore. Everything hurt. “ _No!_ I’m not doing that! I won’t! I _won’t!_ ” She sobbed wildly, almost desperately, doubling over on the agony bursting in her chest. She managed to sit on the end of the bed before she could hit the floor, Gobber’s hand falling from her shoulder. “I don’t want it to die! I don’t!” For a while she was left to cry without Gobber saying anything, but then he spoke again, obviously prompted by Gothi.

“Gothi said that it’s likely the baby will die, but there’s a chance it will survive.”

A chance. A _chance._ No matter how slim that was, Heather could take that, grab at that and hold on. If there was a chance her baby could live, she wasn’t going to do anything to get rid of it now. A chance was better than none, and she didn’t want to be killing it, didn’t want to make the decision that would end its life. At least this way, if the baby did die upon birth or soon after, it wouldn’t be her decision.

_But oh gods, if it dies, all of this would have been for nothing._

“I-I need to think about it,” she surmised. This wasn’t some kind of decision she could make within mere minutes. She felt like she’d a lifetime to think this over, and that whichever choice she made would still be the wrong one. She felt bad, but she’d have to talk to Astrid about it. That was, if Astrid didn’t need emotional support of her own. No one was going through anything easy right now, and it wouldn’t be fair of her to dump this on her if she was having her own problems. She’d wait and see how Astrid was doing, and then decide whether or not to tell her. 

Heather tried to draw in a deep breath, to let one out, but all she could do was sob, wail. She wanted to stop, but she couldn’t. She had to let her pain out _somehow._

“Do you need someone to stay with you?” Gobber asked.

Heather shook her head. She was clutching her abdomen now, her _baby_. “J-just leave. Please. L-leave.”

They did, and she only knew because of how alone she felt. She hadn’t heard the door shut above her cries.

 

Snotlout and Tuffnut brought Hiccup his dinner, but they didn’t stay very long after he finished eating. He was fine with that. Conversation with them had felt superficial, and all of his smiles and laughs had felt that way too. Having Astrid help bathe him and cut and re-braid his hair had helped make him feel better, but now without her there, he was left feeling so alone. His friends were trying to empathize with him, were trying to understand, but they didn’t. They hadn’t been there. They didn’t _know._ He found himself wishing for Bryn. She had understood. She had witnessed some of the horrors done to him, had seen the aftermath of them. She had known his torment better than anyone else, but now she was gone, and he was alone. He didn’t have Toothless with him either. He had been able to tell Toothless was getting restless, so he had had Snotlout and Tuffnut take him out for a flight. Toothless had been reluctant to leave him, but Hiccup had urged him to go and stretch his wings.

Now Hiccup sat, exhausted, but too frightened of the unavoidable nightmares to sleep. What could he do instead? He didn’t feel like he could read. His mind was spiraling with thoughts, images. Nothing was really substantial. Things would just flit by before moving onto something else. He had to set them straight. He had to set the events of what happened to him straight, pull the memories out of the fog that was his own mind. He reached for the paper and the charcoal on his desk. He had to write it out. Maybe the paper would help him put things in order.

The first part was easy, what had started it all.

**Dagur captured me.**

Now Hiccup’s chest hurt. He was trying to think of the time before that, the time before Dagur had had him. Who had he been? What had his life been like? It had still sort of been a mess, but nothing compared to what it was right now. He hadn’t been suffering like this. He hadn’t been ruined. He’d been happy, (well, happier), flying on Toothless, leading the Dragon Riders, determined to take down Viggo, sure that he could do it. He’d been his own person. His body had been his own. He’d been the heir to the throne of Berk. But now…

He wanted to cry for himself, mourn the version of him that had been lost and could never be retrieved. His vision blurred with tears as he looked down at that one, horrible statement. He wished he could go back and reverse everything, all the choices he’d ever made that had put him in the right situation to be captured. He hated it. He _hated_ it.

“Oh gods,” Hiccup murmured. He doubled over, his emotions causing very real pain in his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut. “Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods.”

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t write this out.

But no, he had to. He had to get it all out of his head, had to sort out the events, had to let himself feel. Stoick had told him that he was allowed to feel, allowed to show his emotions. He should take full advantage of that and stop trying to shove everything down inside like he had for months. Dagur wasn’t here to reprimand him for stepping out of line, for feeling anger or sadness. Dagur wasn’t here to hurt him or do _anything_ to him. He was safe.

Hiccup forced himself to think back to that time, to think of what had happened when Dagur had captured him, those first few days on the ship heading to a place he didn’t know of. He’d left him tied up for a while, then he’d taken his armor from him, and Hiccup had been afraid he’d take the rest of his clothes from him too, but that didn’t happen yet. That was for later. He remembered being touched, a huge arm around him, a hand groping at his ass over his pants, breath hot and heavy on his face. But Dagur hadn’t gone under his clothes yet, hadn’t truly molested or raped him. He made himself write it down.

**He touched me a lot at first, but he didn’t rape me.**

Hiccup paused.

**Not yet.**

It hurt to write it. It hurt to think about. That’s what had happened to him, right? _Right?_ Again and again and again. Countless times. Dozens. Maybe even hundreds. But had it stayed as that? Had it been rape a week ago, or had it just been sex, lovemaking? What was consent? What wasn’t consent?

No, he couldn’t think of that right now. That was something to sort out for another time. He just had to get the events in order, figure out what had happened. He continued writing, the events coming back to him, piecing themselves together, coming back through the fog of his mind like little pinpricks of light. It grew clearer as he put it down on the paper, the charcoal mapping out his torment. There were emotions, swirling and clashing and _hurting_ , but he didn’t give himself the time to analyze them, tried not to acknowledge what they were. If he did that he’d stop writing, and he had to do this. For himself. Maybe for others. Was it possible that afterwards he could give it to Astrid? Give it to the rest of his friends as an explanation? He couldn’t talk about it, but he could write it. 

Hiccup jerked back into reality as he heard his door burst open. He felt like his heart suddenly clogged up his throat. Panic gushed hot through his veins, and for a moment he was stuck in it, didn’t know what to do. He was going to be attacked, going to be hurt, and he couldn’t run. He was injured and didn’t have his prosthetic. How was he going to defend himself?

Then he remembered the dagger on his desk, twisted and reached for it, giving a cry at the way his hips protested the movement. There were footsteps on the stairs, and then a person emerged. Hiccup held the dagger in front of him with two hands, gasping, eyes wide, ready to kill if he needed to.

“Whoa, whoa, Hiccup! It’s just me!”

“Gustav?” Hiccup lowered the dagger a little, inspected the person that was standing at the top of the stairs. In his panic he hadn’t recognized him, but it was indeed Gustav. That didn’t exactly calm him though. Gustav was nosy and prying, and what he’d been writing was still out in front of him, but he didn’t move to put it away. He felt like he still had to hold the dagger, just in case.

“Yeah, just wanted to check up on you,” he said. He didn’t sound as lively as Hiccup remembered him being. He didn’t really look it either. “I was at the meeting earlier today and Stoick said that you’d been tortured, so naturally I was worried.”

Hiccup’s heart was steadily crawling back down his throat to reside in his chest once again. He drew a deep breath.

“Okay, and?” He didn’t want to talk to Gustav. He wanted to be left alone, wanted to finish what he was writing.

“Could you lower the dagger please?” Gustav requested. He raised his hands innocently. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Hiccup reluctantly put the weapon back down on his desk, being more careful of how he moved his body so as not to aggravate his hips, but a pained grunt still came out of him anyway. He was getting sick of this. He was getting sick of everything.

“Thanks.”

“You know, you could have knocked,” Hiccup snapped at him. Had he done that, he simply would have yelled at him to go away. He didn’t want to see anyone right now.

“Sorry. Just, uh, forgot.” Gustav came closer, and Hiccup had to keep himself from drawing away, from snarling at him. It was just Gustav. He was an innocent kid who would never hurt him. He pointed to the papers in front of Hiccup. “Whatcha writing?”

Hiccup quickly began gathering them up. “None of your damn business,” he spat defensively. He stuck the pages in the middle of the book he’d been using as a flat surface to write on, shut it tightly and held it close to himself. He was sure that if he put it on his desk, Gustav would take it and look.

Gustav looked hurt by his tone, and it made Hiccup feel bad. He remembered he’d used to be gentler with him, kinder. He sighed.

“Sorry, Gustav. I’m just not in a good mood. Hard to be in a good mood these days.” He released his hold on the book, let it settle down next to him. Maybe Gustav wouldn’t grab it if it was that close to him.

“You’re not happy to be home?” Gustav asked, clearly confused.

“No, I am. I think.” Hiccup shook his head a little in confusion. “I don’t know. It’s just… a lot happened and I don’t know how to feel about any of it.”

“So what happened? When Dagur captured you?”

Hiccup flinched at his name. Wasn’t he hearing his name enough in his own head already, in his thoughts? He didn’t need to hear it outwardly as well.

“It’s, um…” He paused to lick his lips, nerves vibrating in his stomach. “It’s a long story.”

“Is that what you were writing?”

_Damn, he’s more perceptive than people give him credit for._

Hiccup didn’t know how to respond to him without hurting his feelings again, but he couldn’t let him know what had truly happened, couldn’t let him see what he’d been writing.

“It’s personal,” he finally responded, not looking at him.

He expected the next question.

“Can I read it?”

It made Hiccup grab at the book again, clutch it tightly. “No.”

Gustav didn’t seem to know what to say to that, and Hiccup still wasn’t looking at him, couldn’t meet him in the eyes, couldn’t show him how he’d changed. He felt like a victim to his questions.

“So, um, how are you feeling?” Gustav cleared his throat a little awkwardly. “I was expecting you to look worse, honestly,” he admitted.

Hiccup nearly laughed. Gustav had no clue what was under his clothes, had no clue just how scarred his body was, how damaged.

“I hurt,” Hiccup responded honestly. He looked at him, made eye contact for a second, and it made his heart race, so he instead looked at his eyebrows. “I have to stay in bed and recover for a while. Things are fractured.”

“Things?”

 _Dammit, just leave, Gustav._ It didn’t occur to Hiccup that he could tell him to, that he didn’t have to be having this conversation if he didn’t want to. Why would his request for him to leave be taken seriously? So, he didn’t say it.

“My hips.” It had slipped out before he could stop himself, but luckily Gustav didn’t know about what Dagur had done to him, wouldn’t know how that had happened. 

“How?”

Hands, fingers, grabbing, squeezing, crushing. They were holding him. Dagur was settled behind him, pressed against his back, his mouth at his ear. His grip was devastating and impossible to get away from.

“L-long story.” Hiccup knew Gustav wouldn’t be satisfied with the vague answers, but it was all he could give, especially with Dagur’s fingers pressing into him like that…  
_Dagur’s not here,_ he reminded himself. What he was feeling was just a phantom of him, a version of him in his head that wouldn’t go away. But a phantom couldn’t have power over him. Steadily, the feeling of being squeezed disappeared. _Dagur_ disappeared.

“But you’ll be okay?”

Hiccup had no clue how to answer that. Would he ever be okay again? The scars on his body were permanent, and so were the ones on his mind, his soul. His very being had been gouged deep into, and it was like there was no way to stitch it up, like he was bleeding on the inside and couldn’t make it stop.

“I guess,” he answered. Better to give Gustav a little bit of hope, to make him think he might be okay again. “Just gotta rest and recover.”

Gustav nodded a little. “So do you think you’ll be feeling good enough to fight with us when we go after Dagur?”

“Don’t say his name!” Hiccup spat. “And no. I don’t know. I don’t want to go anywhere _near_ him! Ever again!”

Gustav flinched, took a step back when he rose his voice at him.

Part of him did. That beast, that insatiable monster inside. That part wasn’t here to speak though, didn’t have control of his voice. That part didn’t matter. He was glad he was exhausted, because all this thinking about Dagur would have made him aroused had he not been. He wasn’t ready to be tied up again, to become lost to that need inside of him. He was glad to be tired.

“I’m… I’m sorry.” Hiccup shook his head, put a hand to his face. “Just leave please.” 

“No, I should apologize, Hiccup. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

Hiccup wasn’t in the mood to accept his apology. “I want you to _leave._ ”

“Alright.” Gustav said it sharply, clearly hurt. Hiccup didn’t watch him go, but he heard him descend the stairs, heard the door open and close. Then he was left alone. So alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, my peeps. You'll get to read the full version of what Hiccup's writing, and you'll also get to read that letter that Dagur wrote to Stoick at some point as well. Very sorry if it feels like the plot is moving along at a crawl right now, but the characters have a lot of emotions to deal with and some healing to do. The pieces are moving, but slowly for the time being. Not everyone flies a dragon, you know. Thank you for reading and I hope I can get back to updating more regularly!


	91. Chapter 90

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Self-harm in the first part of this chapter, and then mentions of it pretty much all the way through the second part. Also, warning for suicidal ideation. Please be safe, guys.

The blade of the dagger glinted a little in the light of the lantern that was on Hiccup’s desk. Hiccup just held the weapon, looked at it. He was alone. Toothless wasn’t here. He could do it if he wanted to, could cut himself, punish himself, wipe the impurities from his blood. There was a towel on his desk too. He could use that to wipe up the blood after. No one would have to know, no one but him.

But maybe they would know. Where could he cut himself where they wouldn’t see? Surely he’d have to let Gothi look at him again. She’d see it. He couldn’t do it, but… he had to. There was a poison in him, burning away his soul. He could feel it roiling and writhing within his veins. If he could just get rid of it…

Hiccup rolled up the sleeve on his right arm. His forearm seemed the most convenient. He put the blade of the dagger to his flesh, held it there, ready to do it. He almost laughed. How fitting. A dagger cutting him. A _dagger._ Different spelling, but same pronunciation, same ability to dole out anguish. Dagur. Dagger. Same thing really. Both could make him bleed.

He sliced, winced at the pain of it, but reveled in it at the same time. Now both _had_ made him bleed.

He drew the dagger away, looking at the slash he had made. Blood seeped out, red and hot. He’d almost expected it to be black, for it to reflect how twisted he had become. It dripped down his arm, then onto the blanket, and he panicked, remembered the towel. He hurriedly reached for it, shoved it under his arm to catch the blood. He didn’t want anyone to notice. 

He sliced again with a grunt. It hurt but it was… good, almost. It felt like something inside of him was being released, seeping out with his blood, something that he couldn’t get out of himself through tears or writing or screaming. So, he did it again. The cry he gave was one of pain but also rapture. There was a euphoria that went along with it. This was what he wanted, what he deserved. He deserved to hurt for everything he’d done, for everything that he was and now wasn’t. He _wanted_ to hurt, but only by his own hand. No one else’s. 

Hiccup cut himself a few more times, enough to leave seven slashes in his forearm. He was crying now, silently, but at what, he didn’t now. He felt something good inside him from this though, but he couldn’t exactly place where he felt it. It was almost like he could breathe easier, like a little bit of a weight had been lifted from him. 

He wiped the dagger off on the towel, then set it back down on his desk. Next, he wrapped the towel around his arm, pressed down on it to stop the bleeding. He bowed his head and gritted his teeth at the pain. But it was pain he had caused. That was fine. He was in control of it. He had a say in how much he hurt.

After some time, Hiccup lifted the towel to check if he was still bleeding. Blood was still seeping out a little bit, so he put the towel back.

Then a stone fell into his gut.

Toothless would know. He’d be able to smell the blood right away. He’d know he was hurt, but would he know that he’d been the one to do it, that he’d hurt himself? 

The good feelings that had washed over Hiccup abruptly vanished, fell and disappeared into the dark pit that was inside him. Regret crawled up out of it to replace it; shame, confusion, guilt. Why had he done this? _Why?_ He removed the towel and looked at the slashes again. He hadn’t done anything good, anything useful. He’d just added to the desecration that was his own flesh. He hadn’t cut deep, so maybe the scars wouldn’t last forever, but they’d be there for a time, and he’d still always know that he’d done it. Even if the scars faded on his skin, he’d always remember taking a blade to himself.

Maybe he could do it again. He rubbed at his neck. He hadn’t looked at himself, but he knew the bruises there were probably almost gone by now. Maybe he could finish what he’d started before. Maybe he could just end it. He looked at his wrist, at the veins there that looked like they would just _burst_ if he sliced into them. He could cut those, cut deep, and then lay down and bleed his pain and his wretched existence out of him.

He didn’t have the dagger in his hand anymore though, and he couldn’t make himself reach over and grab it, couldn’t make himself actually do it. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, started listing off in his head all the things there were to live for. Toothless. Flying. The clear blue sky. The wind against his face. The flap of wings. The peace he would hopefully feel upon getting to do that again.

The list went on. He listed the people in his life, the people that he cared about and loved. With each name, the want to kill himself faded, was shoved back into its pit. Hiccup hoped that it would just stay there, would never resurface again, but he was sure that at some point in time, it would come back out to attack him and gnaw away at him. But for now, it had retreated, leaving him to recover from the way his soul and his flesh were dripping blood.

 

Hiccup was still awake when Snotlout and Tuffnut returned with Toothless, which Snotlout found surprising, given how late it was and that Hiccup needed rest. He was writing away rather furiously when they came back in after he’d allowed them entrance.

“Hey, H, whatcha writing?” Tuffnut asked.

Hiccup wasn’t given a chance to answer, as Toothless suddenly shoved Snotlout and Tuffnut out of the way and rushed over to Hiccup, sniffing at him frantically. Snotlout had to grab onto Tuffnut’s arm to keep him from tumbling back down the stairs.

“Whoa, Toothless! What is it?” Snotlout cried.

Hiccup was looking overwhelmed by the sudden intense interest his dragon had taken in him. He’d dropped what he was doing, held up his hands to fend Toothless off, who was pressing his snout against him and snuffling.

“Toothless, what’s the matter?” Hiccup asked, his voice a little shaky. He tried to pet him, to pacify him, but Toothless jerked his head and threw his hand off, went back to sniffing over his body. Then he stopped at his right forearm, nudged at it, and Hiccup gave a yelp and pulled his arm back, held it protectively to his chest.

Snotlout furrowed his brow. “Hiccup, are you hurt?” That had been a clear show of pain.

“What? No,” Hiccup responded rather defensively. He let his arm fall away from his chest, and Toothless was back to sniffing it, nuzzling at it, and Hiccup gritted his teeth and winced. His lie was clear.

“Dude, what happened?” Tuffnut asked, coming over. Snotlout followed.

“Nothing. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Thanks for bringing Toothless back. Now please go.” He waved his hand at them to dismiss them.

Toothless moved around the other side of the bed, seemingly giving up in his quest to find out what was wrong, but then he grabbed at Hiccup’s sleeve with his teeth and tore at it, ripping a piece off and showing what Hiccup had been hiding. Snotlout gasped, heard Tuffnut do the same, and Hiccup quickly clamped a hand to his arm, but everyone had seen.

“Hiccup, what…? How…?” Snotlout was confused, didn’t quite know what to ask. Why were there slashes in his arm? What had happened? “Who did that to you?”

“Who do you _think_ did it, Snotlout?” Hiccup snapped. Toothless was sniffing at him again, and Hiccup actually elbowed him away from him, and Toothless drew back, ears lowered, looking hurt. Snotlout had never seen him treat Toothless like that before.

“Uh…”

“Hiccup, why’d you hurt yourself?” Tuffnut asked gently. 

_Oh._ Snotlout’s chest tightened a little. That’s what this was. No one had hurt Hiccup except for, well, Hiccup.

Hiccup just shook his head, hand still covering the wounds he’d given himself. “You wouldn’t understand. That’s the problem. No one understands. No one _gets_ it!” He looked away from them now, downwards. “I know you’re all waiting for me to recover, waiting for me to just _get better_ and not act like I’ve lost my fucking mind, but maybe I have! You all look at me with these stupid, pitying expressions! You all look at me as if I’m not the same person!” Now he jerked his head up. Tears glistened in his eyes, his face contorted in pain, anger. “I’m Hiccup! I’m still Hiccup! I am!” Then he looked away again, breaths heaving. “Right?” He asked that quietly, almost to himself, clearly in anguish.

Snotlout didn’t know what to say to any of this. He couldn’t negate it. Hiccup was right. He did feel pity when he looked at him, sadness. He did feel like something was missing, like they hadn’t rescued the same Hiccup that they’d lost. Guilt took ahold of him, then frustration. How were they supposed to treat Hiccup? Was there any right way to treat him when every little thing set him off? How did Hiccup want to be treated? Did he even know?

Tuffnut, luckily, knew what to say.

“Hiccup, you’ve changed. You’re different now, but that doesn’t mean that you’re not still you.”

Hiccup let out a small sound: a weak sob. “I-I don’t feel like me. I-I can’t remember the last time I felt like me. A-and how can I be me? How can I just be myself when I don’t even _belong_ to myself anymore? I don’t… I don’t own any part of me. He… _He_ does.” He said the word “he” with such distaste, such scorching _hatred._ Snotlout had never heard that in his voice before.

“Hiccup, we can fix that. We can kill him. We’re planning to go after him, and-”

“And then what?” Hiccup interrupted Snotlout. “Then Heather will be chief. She already is chief. She owns me too.”

That gave Snotlout pause. He hadn’t thought of that, but the brand burned into Hiccup’s chest made it so that whoever was chief of the Berserkers had ownership of him. Currently that was two people, two people at war with each other. He was suddenly hit with a wave of hopelessness. It was a war they were in too. What if they didn’t win? How was Berk going to win against the Berserkers and the Dragon Hunters? Berk was so small compared to both of them. If they didn’t win, not only would they lose Hiccup, they’d lose everything. Though he’d fought in battles, Snotlout felt like he was only now being faced with his own mortality. He could _die._ They could _all_ die.

“Hiccup, we’ll figure something out,” Tuff said. He gestured to his arm. “That’s not bleeding anymore, is it?”

Hiccup lifted his hand off it, and Snotlout counted seven slashes in his arm. They were red and angry, but seemed to be free of any new blood, beginning to scab over. “No.” 

Snotlout noticed something else now too while looking at Hiccup’s bare arm. There were new marks on his wrists, red like rope burn. Shouldn’t those marks have been fading? Why did they look new?

“Are your wrists okay?” Snotlout didn’t exactly know what to ask. Why did it look like he’d been tied up recently, maybe even in the past few hours?

“What?”

“Looks like rope burn,” Snotlout said, pointing. He felt a little bad for bringing it up, but he was curious. What was Hiccup doing to himself while he was alone? Well, other than causing himself harm. What else was going on with him?

“Long story,” Hiccup responded bitterly, rubbing a little at his wrist. He looked at his torn sleeve, then at Toothless, who hadn’t tried to move close again. “I’m sorry, bud.”

Toothless made a soft rumbling noise, came forward, and he and Hiccup rubbed their heads together. The show of affection made Snotlout smile a little.

“Now could one of you guys get me a new shirt?” Hiccup asked. “I don’t want anybody to see these.”

“No problem.” Tuffnut was already heading over to one of his chest of clothes to do it for him. “Have a color preference?”

“I’m in bed. What does it matter?”

It was silent as Tuffnut looked for a new shirt to give Hiccup, and there was tension. Snotlout shifted his foot on the floor, folded his hands behind his back. 

“So, um, you still didn’t answer why you did that to yourself.”

Hiccup sighed heavily, shoulders sagging, no doubt with the weights he felt on himself from what his life had become. “I… I don’t know. There are a lot of reasons.”

Tuffnut came over with a new shirt, a green one, and Hiccup took it. Nerves flashed across his face for a second before he began to pull off the now-ruined shirt that he was wearing. He must have worried for a moment about his brand, but then remembered that Tuffnut and Snotlout had seen absolutely everything.

Snotlout felt bad for looking at Hiccup when he took his shirt off, but he couldn’t help it. His body just didn’t look the same. And that brand was so _awful_. Luckily, it looked like the space between his ribs was filling in. He was gaining weight back quickly now that he was eating three meals a day. There were bandages around his hips and waist.

“Hey, my man, you look like you’re starting to gain your weight back!” Tuffnut exclaimed happily, trying to add some cheer to the room.

Hiccup looked down at himself as he discarded his torn shirt. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am.” He tilted his head back a little for them. “How are the bruises on my neck?”

“Not so bad,” Snotlout answered. “Still there, but more of a greenish-yellow. They’re fading.”

“Good.” Hiccup pulled the new shirt on, and Snotlout felt a little better now that it was covering up the wreck that his body had become. He wanted to ask more questions, wanted to ask what injuries he had, but he said nothing. He was still waiting for Hiccup to say something about the slashes on his arm. Maybe he wouldn’t say anything at all.

“Guys, you can’t tell anyone what I did, okay?” Hiccup, for once, looked both Tuffnut and Snotlout in the eye, and his gaze held command. Snotlout hadn’t seen that in him for a while. It was the real Hiccup, the one they’d lost three months ago. There was pain hidden underneath it though, agony beyond his own comprehension. 

“We won’t,” Tuffnut promised. He looked warily to the dagger on Hiccup’s desk. “What about that though?” he questioned, pointing towards it.

“I won’t do it again,” Hiccup told them with a shake of his head. “I promise. At… At first it felt good, like it was releasing something from me, but then all the bad things just came back after, worse than usual. I… I hate myself for doing it. Believe me: it won’t happen again.”

Hiccup had turned his head away while saying that. Snotlout didn’t know if he was doing that because he was uncomfortable with eye contact, or because he was hiding a lie. Still, he didn’t feel comfortable leaving the dagger with Hiccup. He’d tried killing himself before, and now he’d hurt himself. He had the means to hurt himself again, to take his own life. He said he wouldn’t do it, but…

“Hiccup, I still think we should take it,” Snotlout told him. “I don’t trust you with it.”

“Well then what the Hel am I going to use to sharpen my charcoal?” Hiccup asked, taking one of the pieces and waving it in the air. “I’m writing something.”

“Writing?” Tuffnut cocked his head. “I thought drawing was more your forté.”

“I mean, it is, but this-” Hiccup gestured towards the papers in front of him- “This is important. I have to write this. It… It hurts, but I have to.”

“It’s about what happened, isn’t it?” Snotlout surmised.

Hiccup sucked in his lower lip, nodded. “Yeah.” His voice was weak, raspy. “Yeah it is. I’m… I’m trying to put it all in order. Right now it’s just this giant swirling thing inside my head with no chronology. It’s like all my memories playing at once out of order, and I need it to stop. Maybe writing it down will help, will make it stop. Maybe if I can see that there was some sort of order, some sort of chronology to it, it’ll help.” He shook his head. “But honestly, I don’t know what will help me. I don’t have a clue. I’m tired, and I want sleep to help, but I don’t sleep well. I keep having nightmares, and now I don’t want to sleep. I don’t want to be awake either. I hurt and I want to stop hurting. I…” He trailed off. His words were awfully concerning, and Snotlout found himself reaching for the dagger on his desk. There was no way he could leave that with him when he was talking like that.

“Wait, Snotlout, no, please!” Hiccup reached for it too, and they both took ahold of it, Snotlout’s hand on the sheath and Hiccup’s on the hilt. “I need it.”

“For what? Hurting yourself?”

“I already told you I wasn’t going to do that again.” Hiccup narrowed his eyes at him.

“But the way you’re talking…” Snotlout didn’t know how to go on.

“I’m not going to kill myself,” Hiccup told him. “I swear. I’m not.”

“You kind of sound like you want to,” Tuffnut butted in. Hiccup turned a glare on him, and something about the expression was so feral that Snotlout was surprised a growl didn’t rise from his throat.

“I _don’t_ want to. There’s a difference between wanting to kill myself and wanting to lay down and just stop existing.”

“And which one do you want?” Tuffnut inquired.

“To lay down and never move again.” Despite his words, Hiccup released the dagger, let his hand fall back to rest in his lap. He rubbed at his eyes. “Gods, I’m so tired. I’m so tired of everything. I want it all to stop.”

“It will stop,” Snotlout assured him. “At some point. It won’t be like this forever. You won’t hurt forever.”

Hiccup snorted. “That’s really funny, Snotlout.”

“Come on, Hiccup, you don’t have a clue what the future is going to look like,” Tuffnut said. “The now looks pretty bad, but the future can be-”

“Just as bad too,” Hiccup interrupted. “Or worse.”

“How could it get any worse?” Snotlout asked him.

“I could… end up with Dagur again.”

“Hiccup, look, we told you we’d do everything to keep that from happening,” Snotlout said emphatically. He hadn’t lied about that. He’d give his own life to keep Hiccup away from Dagur, to keep that madman as far away from him as possible. Hopefully as far away as possible meant Dagur suffering for eternity in the acid rivers of Niflheim. That was a nice image: him being forced to wade through massive rivers of burning acid. Snotlout thought cruelly of how his genitals would be burned and ruined. He deserved that. That was what he’d used to hurt Hiccup, to ruin him.

For a long while, Hiccup didn’t say anything, but then he just nodded.

“But for now I’m going to take this.” Snotlout gingerly lifted the dagger off the desk, waiting for Hiccup to move for it again, but he didn’t. 

“And don’t worry about the charcoal.” Tuffnut put in. “We’ll get you a bunch so you won’t have to worry when one piece goes blunt.”

“Thank you.” Hiccup sighed. “Look, I’m really sorry guys.”

“About what?” Snotlout didn’t know what he could possibly be apologizing for.

“For being a mess. For you guys finding me like this. For having to keep all these secrets for me. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

“Hiccup, you need time to recover.” Tuffnut’s hand went to his shoulder, probably unthinkingly, but Hiccup didn’t react, let it stay there. He looked truly exhausted. Maybe he was just too tired to care. “It’s not going to happen instantaneously.”

“I wish it would.”

“I know. We do too, but you have to give yourself time.”

“Time.” Hiccup said the word like it was his first time saying it, like he was testing it out on his tongue. Then he nodded a little. “Yeah, time.”

Tuffnut’s hand slid from his shoulder. “We’ll get you that charcoal, but in the morning. For now, you need to sleep.”

Hiccup suddenly looked very defeated at the word “sleep”.

“I don’t want to. I told you - nightmares.”

“You need something to help you?” Tuffnut offered.

Hiccup shook his head. “No. No way in Hel. No drugs. He… I can’t… Never mind.” He looked at them a little hopefully. “Do you guys have any alcohol?”

 

Snotlout and Tuffnut had left Hiccup alone with Toothless and the bottle of wine they’d managed to acquire for him. Tuffnut hoped he wouldn’t drink the whole thing, but there had been such a desperate look in his eyes when they had handed it to him, and he knew he would. Now, they were alone in Snotlout’s hut. Tuffnut had his shirt off, sitting in front of Snotlout with his back to him. Snotlout was massaging at the scar tissue in his right shoulder. That spot hurt him, every day. Some days weren’t so bad, but there were others where it overrode his thoughts and he couldn’t focus on anything else. Luckily, he hadn’t had a day like that in a while. He still felt upset about the injury, though it was healed now and mostly just a mass of scar tissue and muscle that knotted much too frequently and caused him daily pain. It impaired him, ruined his movements. He’d been learning how to use his left hand, but it was hard. He found himself envying Hiccup a little. He was just naturally lefthanded. This kind of injury wouldn’t have had that big of an effect on him.

“Do you think we did the right thing?” Snotlout asked him. “Giving him that wine?”

“I don’t know,” Tuffnut answered honestly. He hated seeing Hiccup the way he was, constantly hurting in one way or another. Maybe the alcohol would numb that for him. “He’s hurting. Maybe the alcohol will help.”

“And maybe it won’t. Maybe it’ll make it worse.” Tuffnut knew Snotlout was thinking about his father, thinking about how when he got drunk his anger came out and his fists went flying and often landed on him.

“I mean, if he asked for it, he must know how it effects him,” Tuffnut said. “Maybe it does help him. Maybe he’s, I don’t know, used to being drunk. Maybe Dagur let him get drunk before he…” He couldn’t finish, ended up shuddering instead. By Thor, this whole situation was so unreal, so terrible. How could any of this have really happened?

“I’m kind of hoping so.” Snotlout’s tone had gone dark. “Drunk enough so that he could not feel and forget.”

Then they both fell into a heavy silence. Tuffnut winced a little as Snotlout’s thumbs worked at a particularly bad knot in his shoulder. “Go up a little,” he told him.

Snotlout listened, and relief came with it. Tuffnut melted into his touch a little, sighed. “Oh yeah, that’s the stuff. Thank you, Snotlout. This thing can be kind of hard to take care of on my own.”

“It’s fine, Tuff. Don’t worry about it.”

“So when do you think Hiccup will notice I’m using my left hand now?”

“I don’t know. That’s definitely not a thing he’s paying attention to. But then again, he might notice. He noticed that we were dating.”

Tuffnut smiled a little bit. Dating. He was dating Snotlout. The world around him had fallen into utter chaos, but at least he had Snotlout. It was funny really. Months ago he would have never really thought about feeling this way for Snotlout, about feeling so deeply for him, but now he did, and he doubted it would ever go away. He hoped it was the same with Snotlout as well. Sometimes he worried that he didn’t care for him as much, but Tuffnut knew that was just anxiety talking and that he was being illogical. Snotlout showed that he cared for him whenever he could. It was just hard to keep showing affection when they had to hide it from Spitelout, and with all the other things going on in their life. Sometimes, love and affection had to take a backseat.

“It’s good to see that he’s gaining his weight back,” Snotlout commented. “Not that he was very heavy to begin with, but he’s at least starting to look a little more healthy.”

“Yeah,” Tuffnut agreed. Now he was thinking of seeing Hiccup naked, tied up, staring at them with terror and shock in his eyes. He saw that image every night when he closed his eyes to sleep, and he feared that it would never go away. The smell never left him either. He and Snotlout had never talked about it, but when they had entered the tent the odor had been so strong; not of unwashed bodies, but of sex and sweat and the remnants of joining. Tuffnut and Snotlout had had sex only a few times, had discovered that unique smell afterwards. It was slightly unpleasant when out of the moment, but that smell had hit him like a wall, in the very air they breathed. It’d been a hundred times stronger than what it was after he and Snotlout made love. He doubted Hiccup had even noticed it. He’d been _living_ in it, subjected to it day after day, mired in the scent of his rape and the scent of the monster doing it to him that it had probably became a normal thing in his nostrils. Maybe he was still smelling Dagur even now, not just in his dreams, but in his waking moments as well. He doubted that Hiccup would ever lose that smell, that it would last with him for the rest of his life.

“Do you think he’ll ever be okay?” Tuffnut felt bad asking the question. He knew what Snotlout’s answer. There was no point to it, but he had to voice his worries out loud.

“I don’t know,” Snotlout said. “He’ll be physically okay, I guess, save for, um, the brand, but mentally…” There was a very real pain in his words. “Dagur broke him and we all know that now. Hiccup knows that.” He had to take a deep breath, as if holding back tears. “Maybe whatever he’s writing will help.”

Tuffnut couldn’t help it, but he had a terrible curiosity about that. Hiccup had said he was writing about what had happened to him, trying to put it in order. It twisted his stomach and made him feel sick, made needles prick into his chest, but he had the terrible urge to just know, to try to understand what had happened to him. Hiccup had yelled at them that nobody understood. Maybe if he shared this with them they would be able to understand, or at least gain some semblance of it. He knew he shouldn’t push him for it though. If Hiccup wanted to share it with them, he’d do it when he was well and ready.

 

Heather meant to talk to Astrid that night, to tell her what she’d found out about her pregnancy and the baby, but every time she opened her mouth, nothing came out. Astrid couldn’t press her about it, because Heather had her back to her. Astrid couldn’t see her face, couldn’t see that she was floundering like a fish out of water. She hadn’t come to a decision yet, and how could she have? It had only been mere hours since she’d been told that her child would most certainly die. She didn’t know if she should take the chance of carrying it as far as she could, then give birth and hope against hope that it would live, or just get rid of it now and save herself the misery. How was she supposed to make a decision like that? This wasn’t just any life. This was a life inside of her, a life she’d unwittingly helped to create. Anger at Dagur tried to flare up at that thought, but she tamped it back down. She was feeling too much right now to add her hatred for him into the mix. She just couldn’t handle it, was physically and emotionally exhausted. She felt like she was being stretched to the point of snapping, and that if she woke up and plodded through another day, she’d break. She wouldn’t though. She knew she wouldn’t. She’d wake up and continue as she would have to, and she wouldn’t break. She might crack a little, might pop a few seams, but she wouldn’t tear and break completely.

Astrid wasn’t talking for some reason either though. Heather couldn’t really gauge if there was something wrong, couldn’t tell when she couldn’t see her face. She was pressed against her, her arms wrapped lovingly and protectively around her, but she didn’t speak a word. They usually talked at the end of the day, let out all their thoughts and sorrows and torments, but now there was nothing. They’d kissed on the lips, and there had been love in it, but tired love, affection that would have to wait till they both regained some semblance of strength.

Astrid had gone to see Hiccup though, had been dragged out of the meeting by Toothless. Something must have happened. That had to have been what had sapped her strength, what left her there awake, but unable to talk about her day.

“Goodnight, Astrid,” Heather murmured. Sleep seemed like a lovely thing to do. Hopefully her problems wouldn’t follow her there, wouldn’t stalk her into her dreams.

“Night, Heather.”

 

The Edge was quiet. Even in his drunken state, Hiccup knew that, knew that it was late, sometime in the middle of the night. He foggily remembered Tuffnut’s words to get some sleep. His head hurt. His body hurt. His eyes wanted to slide closed, but each time they did, fear would stab him in the heart with a knife of ice, and he would fully reawaken. He couldn’t sleep, not with nightmares waiting on the other side of consciousness to devour him.

He sat up, looked down at the papers he’d left on his bed in the fading lantern-light. He picked up a page, the first one, and began to read for some reason. He didn’t know why he was reading it. Not only had he written it. He’d lived it. He’d suffered it. He’d _endured_ it. 

It wasn’t complete yet, and there was no hope of him doing that now. He’d written until his charcoal had just been a stub, and his mind was working too sluggishly to continue. As he read, it didn’t seem real. He’d written it using the words “I” and “me”, but this couldn’t possibly be about him. The experience felt too far away, too unreal and outlandish. None of this could have truly happened to him.

But it had. He knew it had. There was no other way to explain the scars on his mind and body. It was real, but right now, it didn’t feel that way, and that was good. That was what he wanted. The wine bottle was on his desk, not yet emptied, and he reached for it, took another swig.

Toothless made a worried sound, pawed gently at his leg through the blankets.

“Not sleeping tonight, Toothless,” he slurred out. “Can’t. Can’t do it. Nightmares.”

Toothless must have understood him, because the next thing that came out of him sounded very disapproving.

“No, Toothless. _You_ go to sleep. I’ll be fine.” Hiccup looked over the writing. That had happened to him. That really _had_ happened to him. “I’ll be fine,” he whispered.


	92. Chapter 91

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I finally figured out how to add pictures on here, guys!! So maybe check out the prologue again and just kind of peruse over the work because now it has fabulous art and edits with it with hyperlinks to all the creators! Thank you for keeping up with me this far, and comments are very much appreciated.

_ Hiccup was underneath him, willing. He’d opened his legs for him, and now those same legs were wrapped tight around him, his hands running over his back and his ass, urging him on. _

_ Dagur pressed a desperate kiss to Hiccup’s neck above his collar, thrusting into him hard. “Gods, I love you.” _

_ “I know,” Hiccup panted. _

_ Their mouths touched, and the kiss was passionate and hungry on both ends. They’d devour each other, then pull away for a moment to catch their breath and share their moans between them, then clash together again. _

_ “Hiccup, say it back,” Dagur grunted out before biting at his jaw. _

_ “S-say what back?” _

_ “You know what, dummy.” _

_ “What? That I-  _ aww… _ \- love you?” _

_ Dagur laughed a little. “Yes. Those words, Hiccup. Those words.” He lifted his head to look him in the eyes. Hiccup’s were bright and shining, and there was a smile on his face. He opened his mouth. He was going to say it. He was going to say it and mean it. _

_ Hiccup grabbed at Dagur’s head, pulled him close to bring his mouth to his ear, gasping into it before speaking: _

_ “I hate you.” _

_ “What?” _

_ Hiccup certainly wasn’t acting like he hated him. He stroked his fingers through his hair, ran one hand down to his back. “I. Hate. You,” he enunciated.  _

_ “N-no you don’t.” Dagur’s hip movements were slowing as he grew confused. “You love me. I thought you loved me.” _

_ Hiccup’s hand went around to his front, and suddenly there was pain flashing through the right side of his abdomen. Dagur couldn’t make a sound, just pulled away and met Hiccup’s gaze again, and now there  _ was  _ hatred there, hatred for him. He looked down, saw a knife in him, Hiccup’s hand gripping it. He twisted it. _

  
  


Dagur woke with a shuddering gasp, a hand flying to his right side, where Hiccup had stabbed him, where… No, not Hiccup. Heather had stabbed him. Not Hiccup. Hiccup would never stab him, right? That had just been a dream.

With a groan, he sat up, removed his hand to look down at his bandaged torso. No blood was seeping through. His stitches had stayed in place. The wound was just twinging like Hel. The potion for pain had worn off. He didn’t want it though. He was sick of just laying here and doing nothing, of not being in his right mind from whatever it was his healers were giving him.

Dagur ran a hand through his hair, shook his head a little. Hiccup. Of course that’s who he’d been dreaming about. He looked forlornly at the empty spot beside him, then the chain on the ground that ended in nothing. How many days had it been without him? How long had he be gone? He was supposed to be with him for life, and now he wasn’t here.

Dagur wanted him, wanted him badly, but he couldn’t have him right now. Though, there was one person he could have. He was hungry, but he had to sate this hunger first.

He got up and paced a little to relieve the stiffness in his body, tried stretching. He’d been laying around for much too long. Maybe this would help him. He could only hope that it would.

Not caring that he was shirtless and that it was freezing outside, Dagur poked the top half of his body out of the tent, cleared his throat to get the attention of one of his guards. The man to his right looked at him in shock.

“My lord, I didn’t think you were supposed to be out of bed.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Get that blonde man for me, will you?” Okay, now he was starting to shiver. The air was dry and bitterly cold.

“You mean Gilan?”

“I don’t give a fuck what his name is,” Dagur snapped. “Just get him for me.”

Dagur made himself ignore the way his guard rolled his eyes before walking off, then went back into his tent, resumed his pacing. Need was burning in his blood. He clenched his fists. Gods, Hiccup. He wanted Hiccup. He’d had him for so long, and now he didn’t have him. Now he had no one.

And why had Hiccup said he’d hated him in his dream? Did he really hate him?

“It’s not real,” he muttered to himself. “Not the real Hiccup.” He knew the real Hiccup didn’t really love him, not yet, but he didn’t hate him, did he? It was all just in his head, this fear that he did. That’s what it was: fear.

It seemed like forever, but finally, the blonde slave was being shoved into his tent. What had that guard said his name was? Gilan. It didn’t matter. Dagur would just pretend he was Hiccup for now. Not forever of course. It would just be wrong to keep someone else with him that  _ wasn’t  _ Hiccup. He couldn’t do that, and he would get Hiccup back eventually. Hopefully Stoick would heed the letter he’d sent him.

“Yes, my lord?” he asked meekly, hands folded in front of him, eyes cast downwards so as to avoid his gaze. He was used to receiving orders from Dagur, and he didn’t question any of them, no matter how uncomfortable he seemed to be with all of it. Dagur, however, wasn’t completely satisfied with him. He was terrible at riding his cock, while Hiccup had been masterful at it, his hips flexible, probably from dragon riding. Now, all Dagur wanted to do was fuck this man senseless.

Dagur didn’t respond, strode over to him and grabbed him by the waist. He’d never kissed this man before either, but he was craving lips, craving  _ something _ , craving anything that had been like what he’d had with Hiccup, so he crushed his mouth to his in an attempt to fulfill that craving. The man made a sound against him, but didn’t protest, and when Dagur forcefully shoved his tongue past his lips, he let him do it and didn’t bite him. He didn’t kiss back though, just let him do what he wanted.

Dagur began pulling the slave’s clothes off of him as he kissed him. He had a few layers, given that it was winter, and that frustrated him. Had this been Hiccup, he would have been naked already, or in just his robe, which was easy to pull off. At least the slave was being compliant though.

Then Dagur had him naked, was running his hands all over his body. His body was wrong. It wasn’t Hiccup’s. It didn’t have muscles in the right places, didn’t have the same scars or texture of skin, didn’t have the same shape. Some of the differences were more subtle, like the shape of his hip bones, but Dagur knew Hiccup’s body inside and out, every inch of it, and so he could find all that was wrong with this one in comparison.

“My lord, are you sure you should be doing this?” the slave asked as Dagur tugged on his hair to tilt his head back so he could kiss and gnaw at his neck.

“What do you mean?” he growled.

“Y-your injury.”

“I’m fine. I’ll show you just how fine I am in a minute.” Dagur was angry now, so angry, and he had to take it out on someone, lest it sit inside him and fester and grow worse. He bit at one of the slave’s nipples, and  _ finally  _ he drew some kind of noise out of him, but his voice was nothing like Hiccup’s, nothing like the man he loved. Frustrated by this, Dagur changed his hold on the slave and dragged him over to the table, then slammed him down on the front of it. He grunted, but didn’t protest. The only thing Dagur could admit to was that he was a good slave, but he wasn’t a good sex slave. Not in the least. Not like Hiccup had been one of those, but still...

Dagur ran his hands over the man’s back, his ass, leaning over him. “Now hold onto something, because I plan on fucking the life out of you.”

  
  


As was becoming habit for him, Stoick went to see Hiccup in the morning. It was a little early though, so he was surprised when he saw light seeping out from under his door. He knocked.

“Come in.” Hiccup’s words were long and drawn-out, slurred together.

_ He better not be drunk.  _

Stoick entered the hut, went up the stairs. The Hiccup he was met with was, well, a mess. More of a mess than usual that is. There were papers strewn all over his bed, a rather large bottle in his hand that wasn’t quite empty yet. It held a red liquid: wine, that sloshed around when Hiccup waved the hand at him in greeting. Stoick hoped to the gods that that thing hadn’t been full when it was given to him. There was no way that amount of alcohol was just for one person. His eyes were bloodshot and his face was pale and gaunt, dark shadows under his eyes. Toothless was just laying by his bedside, looking concerned.

Stoick sighed. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

Hiccup laughed a little, took a swig from the bottle. “Sleep? Thass funny.” He was looking down at one of the papers, frowning. Then with his other hand, he crumbled it up and tossed it across the room.

“Mind if I sit?” Stoick gestured towards the end of the bed.

“Sit,” was all Hiccup said in response. 

So, Stoick moved aside some of the papers and sat. They were filled with Hiccup’s handwriting. Curious, he found himself picking one up. He didn’t get a chance to read what was on it before Hiccup was gripping it with clumsy fingers and pulling it out of his hand.

“Not- for you.”

“Okay,” Stoick held up his hands defensively, not wanting to make Hiccup angry. “Sorry.” He looked Hiccup over. His hair was clean and back to the length he was used to, two braids in it, probably Astrid’s doing. It was a mess though, like he’d been pulling at it. He looked so exhausted, so strung out, and to add onto all of that, he was drunk. Stoick didn’t know what to do with him.

Hiccup didn’t seem to be in the mood to make conversation, still looking down at one of the papers, but finally, he sighed and lifted his head. He tried to meet his gaze, but his eyes flitted away from his own. Stoick didn’t bother trying to look him in the eye. He wasn’t going to force eye contact on him.

“So I take it you didn’t sleep at all,” Stoick stated. It was blatantly obvious. He found himself looking at the bottle again. Had Hiccup drunk all that? He wanted to take it from his hand, but it was currently out of his reach, Hiccup’s hand with it dangling over the side of the bed.

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“Nightmares,” Hiccup answered simply. Then he was drinking again, and Stoick felt something inside of himself crumble. He still couldn’t believe that this was his son in front of him, was still in some sort of denial of the changes that had happened to him. This  _ disaster  _ sitting in front of him, drunk and sleep-deprived, was his  _ son. _

“Gothi could give you something to-”

“Fuck Gothi,” Hiccup interrupted. “Don’ want annything.”

Stoick was taken aback by this show of rudeness from Hiccup. Sure, he had had moments of it before, was sarcastic and sometimes had an attitude, but he wasn’t usually like this. Given the conversations he’d been having with him, it seemed he’d been swearing more too.

“Then how do I help you?”

Hiccup shrugged. “Don’ know how-ta help m’self either.”

“Then what’s the writing for?” Stoick was just trying to figure him out, trying to navigate this new Hiccup. He was like a strange puzzle he’d never seen before.

“Stuff.” Hiccup rubbed at his head with his free hand. “Gotta get-it all outta me.” He was looking at the pages again, then back at him with a warning glare. “Still not for you though.”

“Hiccup, it’s fine. I wasn’t going to touch it.” Of course Stoick was curious if Hiccup was writing about his experience while being captured, but at the same time he didn’t want to read it, didn’t  _ want  _ to truly know the atrocities he’d faced. It sickened him.

Hiccup didn’t seem to have heard him, continued on. “’Cause if I get-it allll outta me, maybe it’ll stop.”

“What will stop?”

Hiccup tapped at his head. “This. Thinking. I’m… I’m thinking too much. Makes it hurt more.” He laughed, but it was dark, cynical. Stoick wanted to hear his real laugh again, the laugh he’d heard when he’d reunited with Toothless. “Kinda wish I wash still getting my brains fucked outta me. Wasn’t thinkin’ so much then.”

Stoick couldn’t handle this anymore, couldn’t handle the words that were coming from Hiccup’s mouth, couldn’t handle his drunkenness. He lunged forward and easily pulled the bottle from his grip, yanked it out of his reach.

“Hey!”

“You’re done, Hiccup. You’ve had enough.”

“But I wanna make it stop hurting.” He looked sad now, so sad, and Stoick couldn’t tell if the big eyes he was giving him were real or if it was something to manipulate him.

“Well this-” Stoick shook the bottle- “isn’t the way to do it.”

Hiccup made a frustrated growling noise in his throat and chest, huffed, folded his arms. “Then what is?”

“I, um…” Stoick licked his lips. He didn’t have an answer for that.

“Tell me!”

Stoick abruptly stood, shocked by Hiccup’s outburst. “Hiccup, I don’t - look, I don’t know.”

“Fine.” He pointed at the bottle. “May I have that back, please?”

“No,” Stoick said firmly. “This isn’t what you need. You need food, water, and rest. Not alcohol and sleepless nights.”

Hiccup frowned and his shoulders hunched. He knew he’d lost this argument. “But I don’ wanna sleep.” He sounded so scared when he said that, so  _ small _ , not like he was a man, but a child. Stoick put the bottle down on his desk out of his reach, sat down on the bed again. In the moment, forgetting about not touching Hiccup, he laid a hand gently on his shoulder.

“Hiccup, I know how nightmares are. I know they can be bad, but-”

Hiccup shook his head. “No, dad. You don’ get-it.” He sniffled, wiped his eyes on his sleeve, evidently crying. “I-I promise you, you’ve never had nightmares like-thish. E-everythin’ jus’ playing over and over and over… An’ I don’ even know if it’s right, if that’s how it really happened or if iss messed up. I don’ want ’em. Want ’em ta stop. Want it all ta stop.”

Stoick sighed heavily. He didn’t know how to respond to this about his nightmares. He knew he couldn’t understand the depth of them. Having seen wars and battle were probably nothing compared to what Hiccup had endured. His own nightmares would probably seem like good dreams to Hiccup.

“Hiccup, you have to sleep. There’s no way around it. You can’t stay awake forever.”

Hiccup shoved Stoick’s hand off of his shoulder, head hanging. “Jus’ go,” he said weakly. “Please.”

Stoick didn’t know if he’d gotten anything through to Hiccup, but he figured that he’d stick to his wishes. He stood, took the wine bottle from the desk, and left without a goodbye. He almost had half a mind to finish off whatever was at the bottom, but he decided against it. He had things to do.

  
  


“Uh, Dagur, sir?”

“Yes, Savage?”

“Due to your wound, don’t you think it would be best to be- are you bleeding?”

Dagur stopped in his pacing to look to Savage. He still hadn’t bothered putting a shirt on. He looked down, saw blood staining his bandages.

“Huh, must have torn a stitch or two when I was fucking him.” He waved his bottle at the naked, unconscious man on the ground. Others probably thought it would be too early for ale, but with the way he was feeling, he didn’t. That slave had hardly done anything to sate him. He wasn’t Hiccup. It wasn’t the same.

“Good gods, Dagur! Is he still alive?”

Dagur shrugged and made an “I don’t know” noise before taking another swig from his bottle. “So what do you want?” He was hardly in the mood to deal with Savage and his nagging.

“Can’t I just check on my chief?”

Dagur’s eyes narrowed a little in suspicion. “No, you can’t. You never do. Not unless you want something. So what is it?”

Savage clasped his hands in front of him. “Well, I was wondering if you think maybe it’s time to move on. You know, go back, um, home.”

“Berzerk’s not your home,” Dagur told him. “You’ve never been.”

“Well, your home, sir.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve been thinking about it,” Dagur said with a wave of his hand. “When this is better.” He gestured to his wound. “Heather’s probably not there right now, so we’ll be able to take it without a problem. And we’ll kill anyone who doesn’t want to follow me.” Dagur raised his eyebrows at him. “You still want to follow me, don’t you?”

“Of course, sir, of course! Wouldn’t think differently!” Savage backed away from him a little. “Don’t be getting all paranoid on me.”

Dagur laughed. “Uh, I was kidding!” He wasn’t really, but if Savage was loyal, then he should at least try to calm him a little. Not all the way though. Best to keep him on his toes. Dagur kept drinking. He wasn’t drunk yet and he wanted to be.

“May I inquire as to what you’re drinking?”

“What do you think it is?” Dagur spat.

“It’s a little early for ale, don’t you think?”

Dagur rubbed at his forehead. “Savage, if you don’t have anything  _ important  _ to say, which you haven’t so far, get out.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you might as well get me the healer.” Dagur sat. He was tired from his constant motion. He hadn’t stopped moving since he’d woken up, maybe an hour or so ago, but he felt too restless. He was in a bad physical state to be restless. As Savage left, Dagur looked at the slave, still soundly unconscious on the floor. He doubted he’d killed him, but it would have been a little funny if he had, he supposed. Though, he didn’t  _ necessarily  _ want him to die. Who would he fuck then? With a sigh, Dagur tugged one of the blankets off the cot and threw it over him as best as he could from this distance. It landed about halfway on him, but it was better than nothing. Dagur gave a little grunt. “Whatever.” He continued drinking.

  
  


Hiccup didn’t take Stoick’s advice to sleep. It hadn’t seemed like advice, not to him in his cynical and drunken state. It had seemed like an order, and he was sick of taking orders. Besides, there were his nightmares to face. Maybe if he wrote them all out of him before he went to sleep again, they wouldn’t happen.

So continuing writing was what he’d done once he’d sobered up a bit, had something to eat and something to drink that wasn’t alcohol, and had the extra charcoal delivered to him by Snotlout, who’d brought him his breakfast as well. He commented on his state, but didn’t fight him on it, and Hiccup was glad for that.

The problem of writing was, Hiccup didn’t even know if it was in the correct order. He’d reorder the pages, read it, shake his head, reorder it again. Nothing seemed write. Everything was just so… jumbled.

_ Oh fuck this.  _

Hiccup crumbled the last few pages he’d written into a ball and chucked them so hard they went off the loft. Toothless perked up, bounded over his bed and after them. There were clangs down below and then Toothless came hopping back up with the paper in his jaws. He dropped it cheerfully in Hiccup’s lap.

Hiccup felt all the tension leave his body at that, felt his shoulders loosen and drop. He smiled at Toothless, who was wiggling playfully.

“I can’t wait to fly with you again, bud,” Hiccup told him genuinely, picking up the paper ball and throwing it for him again. Toothless went lunging off the loft and Hiccup laughed a little. It felt good to do. He realized playing with Toothless was a good break from the mess of papers in front of him, the mess that was his mind. Maybe he shouldn’t even be trying to write this out. Maybe it wasn’t good for him.

But no, he had to do it, had to get it out somehow, had to put it in order. He’d tried screaming it out of himself. That hadn’t worked. He’d tried crying it out, and that hadn’t worked either. He had to write, but after he played with his friend. He laughed when Toothless brought the ball back to him, scratched him on the head.

“Thanks for being here for me, bud.”

  
  


Toothless wished Hiccup would sleep. It was night again, when the humans almost always slept, but his friend wasn’t doing so. He was still awake, and scribbling away again. He wasn’t doing what he was used to though, wasn’t making images with the weird stick in his hand. It looked like writing. Quite a bit of it too.

Toothless put a foot up on the bed and nudged him gently on the shoulder. “Hiccup, go to sleep.”

“Not now, bud. I’m busy.”

“Go to sleep!” Toothless tried getting the meaning across without sounding angry. He wasn’t angry, just frustrated. Why was Hiccup not taking care of himself? Everyone needed sleep, and Hiccup hadn’t done it in quite a while. Much too long for a human. Even Toothless had slept a few times by now.

Hiccup sighed, looked at him. He said something about not sleeping and keeping Dagur away. Toothless tilted his head. How were those two things related?

“Hiccup, come on.”

Hiccup scratched him under the chin, then went back to scribbling away. Toothless snorted, which let out little puffs of smoke. He wanted Hiccup to notice his discontent, which he did with a quick glance, but then he just ignored him. Toothless didn’t know what to do. Hiccup needed to sleep and he didn’t know how to make him. Did he not understand that he had to? Maybe he’d figure it out by example. Or maybe Toothless himself was just tired, so he went to his rock and settled himself in for the night.

  
  


Hiccup was  _ not  _ happy the next morning. He’d managed to finish what he was writing, staying awake all night, and now it was getting  _ incredibly  _ difficult to stay awake. His eyes kept trying to close, and he swayed where he sat. He didn’t want to lay down. He’d most definitely fall asleep if he did, and falling asleep meant falling prey to his nightmares, to Dagur and Viggo. He couldn’t let that happen.

He wanted to drink, but Stoick had had a conversation with all of his friends, telling them not to give him alcohol when he requested it. Hiccup had yelled at him for that, but he guessed now he could see his point. Being drunk all the time wasn’t exactly a desirable state.

He read over what he’d written, shaking his head to perk himself up every time his eyes started feeling heavy. Now it appeared to be all in order, but there seemed to be something wrong with it. All the mentions of Bryn…

He reached for his charcoal, began to furiously cross out anything that contained her name. He’d come to the decision that he was going to give this to Astrid, to help her understand why he was still suffering so much, what he’d gone through, but he couldn’t let her know about Bryn. He couldn’t. That would only make him feel more unfaithful to her than he already was. Gods, he suddenly wanted to stab himself in the stomach and carve the guilt out of himself.

He finished, put the papers neatly on his desk. Maybe he could sleep now that he’d written out the nightmare.

No. That wouldn’t mean his would go away. He’d been silly for thinking that before. They’d never go away. Dagur would be there on the other side of consciousness, waiting for him, probably with a smile. Hiccup couldn’t deal with that. He wished he could walk around, pace, do some sort of physical activity to keep himself from feeling so lethargic and exhausted.

A knock on his door.

_ Oh shit.  _ It was probably his dad, and he’d be able to tell that he hadn’t slept. 

“Not now!” he shouted out miserably.

“Hiccup, I just want to check on you.” Yep. It was his father.

“Go away!”

“I brought breakfast.”

Hiccup ground his teeth together. He was hungry. But what if his father was going to drug him again? No. He’d said he wouldn’t do that. And his stomach liked the sound of food.

_ Dammit. _

“Come in,” Hiccup ceded.

Stoick came in, set a tray of food down on his lap, and then sat in the new chair that he’d brought for him yesterday. He’d even cleaned up the pieces of the broken one.

“Hiccup, I don’t usually swear, but I’m going to be frank with you: You look like shit.”

Hiccup snorted, began buttering the slice of bread on the plate. “Good morning to you too.”

“You didn’t sleep again, did you?”

“Nope.”

“Hiccup, you can’t let these nightmares control you,” Stoick told him. “You  _ have  _ to sleep sometime.”

“But then they’ll come.” Hiccup was refusing to look at him, just began eating.

“Yes, they’ll come, Hiccup,” Stoick said. “But you have to face them. There’s no way around it.”

“I know that,” Hiccup admitted dismally. There was nothing to do about the nightmares really. They’d come, and he could do nothing but endure. “But it’s like they’re driving me further into madness.”

“Hiccup, you’re not going mad.”

“Sure as Hel feels like it.”

Stoick sighed heavily. “Just promise me you’ll sleep after you eat.”

Hiccup looked at him now, made himself meet his eyes. It made it feel like his insides were shriveling up and dying. “I can’t. I can’t do it, dad. I can’t.”

“Well, I guess that’s it then,” Stoick said resignedly, standing.

“Wh-what do you mean?” Hiccup’s throat suddenly felt dry, and panic plunged into his chest.

“Hiccup, if you’re not going to sleep, I  _ have  _ to get Gothi to give you something. You won’t get any better by staying awake like this.”

Hiccup tried reaching out for him, to stop him, but he was out of range, already turning his back to him and leaving.

“No, dad, wait! Please!”

Stoick turned back to him. “Why? Are you going to sleep?”

“Um, yeah. Yeah I am.”

“You’re lying.” Stoick didn’t even give him time to argue. He just went down the stairs and left the hut.

Hiccup didn’t want to eat now. He was going to be forced to sleep, forced into nightmares.  _ Forced.  _ He was sick of that, so sick of being pushed around and forced and ordered. Why didn’t his words  _ matter? _

Hiccup somehow forced himself to eat though. There was nothing else to do while waiting for Gothi, and she’d be sure to hit him with her staff twice as hard if she saw that he wasn’t eating. Once he was done, he moved the tray aside, looked at the papers again. If someone looked at those while he was sleeping…

He reached for them and the charcoal, quickly wrote Astrid’s name on the top, then stuck them into the middle of a book, but left her name peaking out. Then at least she would know it was for her. He guessed that was okay really. He didn’t want her reading it in his presence.

Stoick and Gothi came in without knocking. Hiccup straightened as the ascended the stairs, tightened his jaw. Gothi had a flask with her.

“I’m not drinking it,” Hiccup said firmly. Well, he hoped it was firm. He felt lightheaded, and he swayed a little.

“Yes you are, Hiccup,” Stoick commanded. “You need to sleep.”

“But the nightmares.”

“Gothi said this should keep them away for now.”

Hiccup eyed the flask suspiciously.

“You sure?”

“Hiccup, please, just drink it.” 

So he wasn’t sure. He would have said so if that were the case. What were the chances of it giving him actual, restful sleep? What were the chances of having nightmares?

Hiccup tried to look stubborn on his position, but then he ended up cracking a yawn. Never mind about the chances of having the nightmares. He wanted the chance to have actual, good sleep. He nodded, gestured with his hand to show that he would take it all on his own.

Gothi uncorked the flask and gave it to him, and for a moment Hiccup just looked down into it. His eyes were sliding closed and he couldn’t tell what was in it.

_ Please don’t be nutmeg, please don’t be nutmeg.  _ He was too tired to berate himself about that being a ridiculous thought. Of course it wouldn’t be nutmeg. They weren’t trying to harm him.

Closing his eyes, Hiccup drank from the flask, not caring about the taste. Then he felt himself falling backwards, the flask being taken from his hand. He hit the pillow and entered darkness. He wasn’t there long before he was met with Dagur.

  
  


_ “Come on, Hiccup. Faster, baby, faster.” _

_ “I’m doing my best, Dagur!” Hiccup cried as he worked himself over his cock. He tried speeding up his movements anyway, pounding himself furiously down onto him as Dagur massaged his ass. _

_ It wasn’t long before they both reached their end. Then Hiccup was laying himself down atop Dagur, who was breathing hard and petting his hair. _

_ “Good job, Hiccup. Good job.” _

_ For a while neither of them said anything, just waited for their breathing to slow. Hiccup began tracing imaginary lines across Dagur’s chest with one finger. _

_ “I love you, Hiccup. You know that, right?” _

_ “I do.” _

_ Dagur hummed contentedly. “Good. And what do you say back?” _

_ There was only one logical answer: “I love you too.” _


	93. Chapter 92

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is really different from what the other chapters have been, but I really think it worked. You guys get to see what Hiccup wrote. I used ---- to signify what was crossed out and how long said portion was.

Astrid knocked on Hiccup’s door, but didn’t get an answer. She tried again. The last time she’d seen him, which had been yesterday, he’d looked awful and he’d claimed to have not slept. Again. Maybe he was finally sleeping now.

She entered the hut, still wanting to check on him. She quietly slid the door shut. There was dim, flickering light coming from the loft. Was he still awake?

“Hiccup?”

No answer. She ascended the stairs, feeling concerned, but it lessened when she saw Hiccup on his back, his head tilted her way, his eyes shut. His face looked peaceful for once. It was like she could pretend this was the old Hiccup, just sleeping after a hard mission.

Toothless wasn’t around, meaning someone had probably taken him out for a flight. Astrid went over to the desk, planning on blowing out the candles there to leave Hiccup in darkness, but while she was leaning over to do it, something caught her eye. There was a sheaf of papers poking out from the middle of one of Hiccup’s books. Her name was written at the top.

 _What’s this?_ Astrid felt kind of uneasy poking around Hiccup’s stuff, but it looked like maybe this had been left for her. She opened the book and pulled the papers out. There were quite a lot of them, and a quick scan showed it was all in Hiccup’s handwriting, but not as neat as usual, like he’d written it in some sort of frenzy.

She looked at the first word under her name. It was “Dagur.”

 _Oh gods._ Had he written about his experience? Was that what this was? And he’d written her name at the top because he’d wanted her to see it?

Astrid looked at Hiccup again. He wasn’t stirring, but what if he didn’t want her to see it? But no, he’d written her name, left it in a place where she’d be able to see it. It had to be for her.

Astrid sat, drew a deep breath, and began reading.

**Dagur captured me. He touched me a lot at first, but he didn’t rape me. Not yet. We got to his camp, and he left me alone for a week to go take care of something he never told me about. I think he probably went to talk to Viggo. In that week I tried escaping, but I never could. I was moved every time I tried to escape, and I was taken through the camp blindfolded so I had no idea where I was.**

**Dagur came back on the night of another failed escape attempt. He kissed me for the first time.**

Astrid felt her chest tightening, and she wasn’t even that far into this. Would she even be able to get through the whole thing? Just… the image of Dagur kissing Hiccup against his will, and then the knowledge that it got so much worse.

**He took my prosthetic. He took me back to his tent. He touched me. He beat me.**

Astrid paused, eyes stinging. She knew what the next words were going to be.

**He raped me.**

She found herself looking over at Hiccup again, looking so peaceful in sleep, looking _normal_ , but she knew how he was now, knew what scars were under his clothes. She couldn’t believe any of this had _happened_ to him.

**Viggo showed up. He tortured me. I lied to him. Dagur raped me right after. It was the first time he’d been inside me. I fainted.**

**I woke up naked with a chain on my ankle.**

**The next morning, Dagur raped me again. I fought. He cut me open.**

_So that explains that huge scar,_ Astrid guessed. Her throat was aching and she found herself blinking away tears. She had to pause to wipe at them before continuing. The sheer _agony_ Hiccup had endured...

**He beat me.**

**He branded me.**

Astrid found herself choking on a sob. She silently told herself to keep it together. She wanted to keep reading this though, but maybe she shouldn’t do it here. She glanced at Hiccup. But no, she had to do it here, because she could remind herself that though all of this had happened to him, he was still safe.

**Actually, Savage did it and Dagur held me. Then Dagur worshipped me with his mouth. I was too weak to fight.**

**I think I lost consciousness for a few days. I can’t really remember. All I know is that when I woke up he raped me again.**

**He gave me a bath. He undid my braids. I didn’t want him to. They were from Astrid. They were special. He didn’t care. He told me how he wanted to kill her. He raped me.**

That gave Astrid a little bit of a pause. She’d known Dagur wanted her dead, but the fact that he’d told Hiccup _how_ he wanted to kill her was despicable. And the braids… No wonder Hiccup had wanted her to wash and cut his hair and then put them back in. Dagur had washed his hair as some twisted sign of being his lover, and Hiccup had wanted her to fix that, remove the taint of that action.

**He gave me clothes. A sorry excuse for clothes. A joke. He gave me the robe, but I savored it. It was better than nothing.**

Astrid gritted her teeth in anger at the mention of the robe. Once Hiccup had gotten into decent clothes, the Dragon Riders had all thrown it in a fire, stood around and watched it burn.

She expected to keep reading, but then she came upon a part that was scribbled out. She held the papers closer, squinted, trying to see if she could distinguish any words underneath the thick, dark lines, but she couldn’t. What was it that Hiccup had crossed out?

**\------------------------------**

**Dagur raped me. I fought. I tore the stitches in my side and it had to be cauterized.**

**He raped me. He raped me. Again and again.**

Astrid didn’t bother wiping at her tears now, just let them fall. She had nothing to do but cry at all of this. She drew in a shuddering breath, looked at Hiccup to assure herself of his safety, and then went back to reading.

 **I got lost in it. He told me he loved me. He raped me. He told me we were soulmates. He raped me.** **\--------------------------------------**

Another crossed out part. Was there something he wasn’t telling her, or had he just made some sort of mistake in writing? Maybe she could just try to ignore what was crossed out for now and carefully ask Hiccup about it later.

**Dagur’s birthday came around. He spent the whole day with me. He hit me with his belt. He liked the welts it left on me.**

Her stomach churned. She couldn’t fathom how someone could be cruel like that, could get off to torment. But then again, it was Dagur. He’d always been like that.

**What was left of my stitches came out. He held me down for it.**

**Dagur had told me I could get my prosthetic back if I did what he said. I had decided to try. I needed it to escape. I tried, but it disgusted me. It made me mad. I made out with him like he wanted and sucked his cock like he wanted, but then I spit his cum in his face. He beat me for that. He raped me harder than usual. He took my robe away and told me I’d lost my clothing privileges.**

Astrid stopped to take deep breaths, but instead a sob came out. “Clothing privileges.” Hiccup’s treatment was… utterly disgusting, dehumanizing.

**He said I could get the robe and my prosthetic back by doing what he said. I wasn’t ready for that yet. I went naked.**

_Good gods._

**He drugged me.**

Astrid didn’t know why she found herself surprised by this. Of course Dagur would do something like that. He’d shown that he wasn’t averse to doing whatever he could to get Hiccup and make him do what he wanted.

**It made me cooperate. It made me like it. It made me tell him I loved him.**

Burning anger. And… was that a spark of jealousy? Hiccup had told _Dagur_ that he loved him, but not her. She’d never heard the words from him.

Then she pushed down the jealousy, because it was stupid, so, so stupid. Hiccup had been drugged, not in his right mind. It hadn’t been his fault. Not at all. Maybe she could hear the words from him someday, when he could say the word “love” without feeling awful about it.

 **I hate him. I could barely move for two days after that. ---------------------------------** **Dagur kept raping me.**

**I got sick of having no clothes. I did what Dagur wanted.**

Again, Astrid looked at Hiccup. She couldn’t picture him doing any of this, actually being willing. Nausea swelled up. The fact that he’d had to do it to get _clothes_ back, and a sorry excuse for them at that. The feelings of sickness just grew as she continued reading.

**I got on my knees and kissed his boots. I sucked his cock and swallowed his cum. I made out with him. I let him open me up and spank me. I rode him, but I didn’t cum until he flipped me over and raped me. I couldn’t cum while riding him. Even my body knew there was something wrong with that. I almost broke that day.**

Astrid was astounded by Hiccup’s strength. How hadn’t he broken that day? How had he managed to keep his mind and his will intact after that?

**Dagur stayed true to his word and gave me my robe and prosthetic back. If I wanted to keep them I had to cooperate with him every other day. I could do that if I wanted to escape. I was glad he hadn’t said every day.**

**Viggo showed up again.**

Dread like a stone in Astrid’s stomach.

**My lie had gotten a lot of his men killed, but it had gotten the Quaken killed too. He tortured me again, even after he found out I had nothing to give him. He tortured me for an apology, and probably because he liked hurting me. I didn’t give him an apology. It was strange. It wasn’t the kind of torture I’d been expecting. He gave me the venom of a dragon, the Triple Stryke, to numb me. Then he made me watch as he broke my fingers. Not all my fingers. Just my right hand. It didn’t hurt but it was wrong. Just so wrong. I still didn’t apologize. He gave me another venom. This one set me on fire. Not really, but it made me feel like I was being burned alive. Viggo said he’d give me the numbing venom again if I apologized. It was the worst pain I’d ever felt and probably will ever feel, but I still refused. I couldn’t do that.**

“Hiccup, why didn’t you just fake an apology?” Astrid breathed quietly. She sniffled. Now she had to wipe at her eyes, because she couldn’t see correctly. Her chest was hurting and she just wanted to start bawling uncontrollably, but she wasn’t done reading that, and she was afraid of waking Hiccup. He needed to sleep.

**This was a battle and he’d win if I did that. It went on and on. I burned for hours. I lost my voice. I ran out of tears. I don’t know how I didn’t lose my mind in that agony. I wanted Dagur to save me, and he did. He gave me the numbing venom. He made it stop. Nothing mattered though. Even without my voice I gave Viggo the apology. I mouthed it to him.**

**Dagur made love to me the day after that. That’s what it was. I know that’s what it was. I felt it. And I was so desperate for something good after all that pain that I’d felt that I reciprocated. I’d never hated myself so much before.**

Astrid’s shoulders slumped and her face fell in pity. She could understand why Hiccup hated himself for this, but she wished that he didn’t, felt awful that he did. None of this had been his fault.

**\---------------------------------------------------------------**

**I saw Dagur’s tattoo. He has my name tattooed on his left forearm.**

Astrid was shaking now, extra saliva pooling in her mouth. She swallowed it down, inhaled through her nose.

**There are other names too, a whole list, but all I could see was mine. All that mattered was mine. My name is permanently etched into his skin. He asked me if I wanted a matching one. He finished fucking me, then carved his name into my leg. He fucked me again after bandaging it.**

_So that’s why Dagur did it._ Astrid had to swallow back bile now. She’d thought her stomach was stronger than this, but she guessed, not when it pertained to someone she loved so deeply, not when he’d been hurt like this.

**I somehow managed to cooperate on the days that Dagur wanted me to. I kissed him back. I rode his cock. I was a good slave on those days, like I was really supposed to be every day. I was his. Why was I still fighting?**

**I found out he was intercepting Berk’s mail. I got mad. I bit him even though I knew the consequences. He’d told me at the beginning of all this that if I ever bit him he’d cut off my left thumb. He was going to do it. I stopped him by telling him I loved him. That was the first time I broke. Once I said it I couldn’t stop saying it. He made love to me while it was still coming out of my mouth. Afterwards, I went into shock. I came out of it with Dagur holding me. I hated him. I hate him. I hate myself.**

“Hiccup, you don’t need to hate yourself,” she whispered. She looked at him, still sleeping, knew he couldn’t hear her, but kept talking anyway. “You did what you had to to protect yourself.”

After, she found herself rereading that paragraph again. Something had caught her eye the first time and she’d forgotten what it was.

_“That was the first time I broke.”_

_First time?_ What did that mean? How had Hiccup broken multiple times? What had broken him all the other times?

**He kept fucking me, and now I had to let him.**

Astrid was shocked at the word choice. “Fucking,” not “raping.” She knew Hiccup was struggling with the idea of consent and bodily autonomy, and now it was showing in his writing. Was that when his mindset had changed during his captivity, or had his mindset changed while writing it?

**I had to pretend I loved him or he’d tear me to shreds. I let him fuck me and I told him I loved him. A good thing that came out of it was that he took the chain off my ankle.**

**Viggo.**

Something about that didn’t sit right with Astrid. It wasn’t even really a sentence. It was just his name.

“Thor, what’d he do to you, Hiccup?” And, steeling herself, she kept reading to find out.

**He came to see me while Dagur was away. He’d lied to the guards and told them that Dagur had given him permission to see me. He hadn’t. Dagur didn’t know he was there. He told me he’d found the Dragon Riders and half of Berk’s fleet at Dragon’s Edge. He wanted to know how to defeat them. I wasn’t going to say anything. He couldn’t hurt me without Dagur finding out. But he hadn’t come planning to hurt me.**

_Oh gods. Oh no, oh no._ Astrid felt she knew what was coming next, but she hoped she was wrong.

**He touched me.**

She was right. Dear Thor, she was right.

**I wanted to yell for the guards but he had his hand between my legs and my body was liking it. He told me I didn’t want the guards to see me like this and he was right. I didn’t. He took my robe from me. He tied my hands behind my back. He was going to keep touching me and then rape me if I didn’t tell him, but I couldn’t. I had to protect my friends, my tribe.**

Astrid found herself sobbing now, and she doubled over. A quick look at Hiccup showed that he hadn’t stirred even a little. He was out cold. He couldn’t hear her.

She didn’t know how long it took to gain some semblance of composure back and continue reading, but she eventually looked at the papers again, her stomach roiling, acid burning in her throat.

**He put a metal rod in my cock. He fingered me. I still didn’t tell him, so he put his cock in me. He was gentle. My body liked it.**

Astrid abruptly stood, dropped the papers, and ran for the stairs. She managed to make it outside before emptying the contents of her stomach into the snow. She wiped at her eyes, her mouth, everything in her hurting. Hiccup had been raped by two people. Dagur and Viggo. He’d been raped by Dagur and Viggo.

It was freezing, but Astrid just stayed outside on all fours for a while, shuddering, hoping she wouldn’t be sick again, that she’d gotten everything out of her. She’d seen blood and battle and gore, and she could stomach all that, but not this, not Hiccup’s torment.

It wasn’t long before she felt her hands beginning to go numb, so she picked herself up and went back inside. She brushed the snow off of herself, rubbed her hands together for warmth as she went back up the stairs. Part of her didn’t want to continue reading this. But there was another part, her need to know, that was winning. Hiccup had left this for her. She had to get through it.

Astrid felt weak all of a sudden. She could hardly get through _reading_ about what had happened to Hiccup, but Hiccup had had to actually endure all of it. She was so weak compared to him, and he couldn’t even see his own strength.

She picked up the pages again, sat down, making herself take deep breaths. She continued reading.

**It wasn’t used to gentle anymore and it wanted it. I didn’t. I wanted it to stop, so I told him. I told him to lay siege to Dragon’s Edge, to play the game with the lights to drive everyone, especially my dad, crazy. I didn’t want to, but Viggo told me he would stop if I told him. I told him and he didn’t stop. Of course he didn’t stop. Why would he? Why should he have? I’m a whore meant to be fucked.**

“No, Hiccup,” she muttered. “No you’re not. You’re _not_.”

**I’m not his whore, but I’m still a whore.**

Those words hurt her so badly. That’s what he thought of himself. He’d told her so, but now she was reading it too. How was she going to change his mind about this, show him that that wasn’t the truth? Dagur must have called him that over and over for it to be stuck in his head like that.

**He finished with me and untied me, then tried to buy me from Dagur. Apparently I’m worth 1,000 gold coins. How could I be worth so much but hardly be human?**

**Dagur said no. I didn’t tell him what Viggo had done. I was too ashamed of it to tell him. That was also the day we found out Heather was pregnant. ----------------------** **Too much happened in just one day. I remember getting drunk to try to drown out the fact that I’d sentenced my tribe to death.**

Astrid couldn’t even fathom the self-loathing Hiccup must have been feeling at all that. He’d felt like he’d sentenced all of them to death. He probably thought he was weak for doing that, for just wanting his rape to stop. He’d probably been expecting all of them to be angry with him for knowing that it was his plan Viggo had used, but Astrid wasn’t angry at all. How could she be? He’d just wanted it to stop.

And it hadn’t.

 **It was snowing one day. ----------------------------------------------------** **I got out. The snow hid my footprints. I don’t know how long I was out or how far I had gotten before the snow stopped. Dagur found me. He got me. He suffocated me and knocked me out.**

**I woke naked, tied up standing, with a collar around my neck and the chain back on my ankle. He drugged me again. He made me take it by holding my nose till I had no choice but to open my mouth to breathe. Before I had started cooperating, that had been his favorite way to get his cock into my mouth.**

The dread was building up again. Hiccup hadn’t mentioned being whipped yet. Maybe this was the point where it was going to happen. Dagur would have been more than furious for him attempting escape. Whipping him seemed like such a small thing in comparison to the anger Dagur must have felt, but she read on and discovered that that wasn’t all he’d done.

**The drug made me more sensitive to everything, so everything he did hurt more than it should have. He whipped me. He tore my back to pieces. He abused my cock till even the smallest touch hurt and it was black and purple with bruising.**

Astrid winced at that. She couldn’t begin to imagine how much that must have hurt. All on its own that would be unbearable, but with whatever Dagur had given him… She almost wondered how Hiccup hadn’t keeled over and died from pure agony alone.

**He bruised me deep on the inside. He fucked me hard. He used my own blood as lubricant. Even with all the pain I was in he made me cum. I think it was the drug that did it. The drug made me hallucinate too. I heard my dad. He told me I deserved it. I didn’t have the means to argue. Besides, he was right.**

Astrid found herself shaking her head. Hiccup hadn’t deserved any of that. Did he realize that that hadn’t been his own father talking to him? Did he know it was just his own mind throwing everything he was feeling back at him in a different form meant to hurt him? He hadn’t _deserved_ this. Hiccup was such a good and brilliant person, caring, empathetic. Why would someone like him deserve all _this?_ Though, Astrid figured he felt that way because of how he hated himself, how he was angry at the things he’d done. Again, she couldn’t blame him for any of that. He’d done what he had to to make his captivity a little easier.

**Dagur wanted to see how many times I could cum before it turned from pleasure to torture. He told me to say Night Fury if I wanted it to stop. I tried, but the drug took speech away from me. He knew that. I don’t know if he would have stopped even if I did manage to say Night Fury. I’d never seen him so furious before. Furious seems like an understatement. I can’t remember how many times he made me cum. I passed out. While I was losing consciousness I hoped that I was dying and would never wake up.**

**\--------------------------------- My dad’s voice was back. He was taunting me.** **\-----------** **Dagur returned. He made my back bleed again. He fucked me again. He cut me loose, set me on the ground. I saw Astrid. She told me I was useless and that I could never be free. She was right. She still is right. The brand made me useless and took away my freedom.**

“No, Hiccup, _no!_ ” It came out of her suddenly, loudly, and she hurriedly glanced to Hiccup to make sure she hadn’t woken him. He’d shifted a little since she’d last looked, but he was still soundly unconscious.

_Does he still believe that? Does he think that I think of him like this now?_

There was one part that was true though. With the brand, he could never be free. He was owned by Dagur, and Heather as well, and whoever came out on top in that war would still own him. He still was free in a sense though. Couldn’t he just… ignore what the brand meant? He had to throw Dagur’s hold off of him, but he didn’t seem to know how to do it. Astrid wasn’t quite sure how to help him either.

**Astrid disappeared and Dagur gave me a bath. It hurt. I still had my voice to scream so I did. The water turned red. I heard all my friend’s voices. They told me I was disgusting, that I deserved this, that I was worthless. They were right.**

A fist pounding at her chest.

**I think I broke again. I remember hating myself more intensely than I ever had. I hated my own name. I hated my own existence. Everything hurt and I hated everything.**

The fist was replaced with a hammer and she was crying rather hard again, but luckily her stomach felt more calmed. It took a few minutes for her to gain the composure to keep reading.

**My life became a blur after that. I got a fever. I can’t remember much, but I know there was a time where I woke from phantom pain and Dagur comforted me through it.**

The words “Dagur” and “comfort” didn’t go together. Not at all. But Astrid had seen his phantom pain before, knew how much it hurt him, so it only made sense that he would seek out whatever he could from whoever he could, and the only person he’d had was Dagur.

**The fever went away. My wounds were healing. ------------------------------------------------------------------**

Astrid had told herself she was going to ignore the parts that were crossed out, but she couldn’t now. It left the writing feeling disjointed and incomplete. He’d definitely written down something coherent and made the decision to hide it from her. He was leaving out pieces of his captivity and she didn’t know why. Was it something more horrible that he was trying to save her from? What could be more horrible than what she’d already read? If he’d wanted to protect her from all this, he wouldn’t have addressed this to her anyway. So what was it?

**Dagur intercepted the urgent message from Dragon’s Edge saying they were being overrun and needed help. Viggo had reached them. Their chances of dying would be higher if the message didn’t get to Heather and Astrid. I had to make Dagur send it to them unchanged. He told me if I came while riding him he’d send it on. That was something I hadn’t been able to do before. I rode him. It was a struggle but I came. I imagined Astrid to do it. Dagur sent on the message.**

The sick feeling was returning, and her stomach ached along with her chest, but Astrid took deep breaths, wiped her eyes on her sleeves, and continued to power through.

 **Snoggletog came. Dagur gave me a real gift before fucking me. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------** **I broke for the final time. There was nothing for me to use to put myself back together after that. I broke for good. Then I went silent.**

Hiccup was definitely hiding something from her. There was no doubt about it now, not with how much he’d crossed out, not with how it felt like something really was missing. It was right there in front of her, but he’d made her unable to see it.

_Dammit, Hiccup, why can’t you just let me know what it is?_

And three times. He’d mentioned himself breaking three times, written that this was the final time. So he’d somehow been managing to put himself back together after each time, but not this one. What was so different about this one? What had caused it? There was an explanation in what was crossed out, she knew, and that frustrated her to no end.

**Not long after, I tried killing myself.**

This was a part where Astrid had to lower the papers and look at Hiccup again. He’d tried killing himself, but it hadn’t worked. He was still here, alive and breathing. He was safe.

**\------------------------------------------------------------------------- I strangled myself with the chain. I lost consciousness, happy that it was the end, yet I woke in Dagur’s arms. I had thought I had wanted to die before, but at that moment I had never wanted anything more in my life. I hated him so much for keeping me from death, for taking even that from me. I wanted to die and he wouldn’t let me, and I couldn’t talk to explain all this to him. I don’t think I would have even if I could have spoken.**

**Dagur didn’t understand that I couldn’t talk. He hurt me to try to get me to talk. Eventually he gave up and I began writing to communicate with him. He was still frustrated, but he took it over no communication at all.**

**He finally noticed that I’d stopped eating. He made me eat. I didn’t want to but he promised me sex and said I wouldn’t get it if I didn’t eat. Part of me relies on sex now, and so I couldn’t refuse. I ate and then he fucked me.**

Astrid didn’t even have a word to describe how _disgusting_ that all was. Not Hiccup himself, but the way Dagur had twisted him, the way he’d treated him. It was beyond despicable, and anger was burning in her again. She wanted to cut off Dagur’s genitals while he was still alive, shove them down his own throat, and then chop his head off. He deserved to die, deserved it more than anyone, and yet, he was still alive too.

**I decided not to try to kill myself again, but I still hadn’t come to terms with that being my life. I was still half heartedly hoping for rescue, which was stupid, because at that point I was sure everyone was dead.**

It was Astrid’s turn to feel a bit of self-loathing. They hadn’t been dead, just hopelessly turned around and confused by Dagur playing with them. They should have found him sooner, but they hadn’t. Guilt gnawed on her insides.

**Then Dagur told me my friends had stopped looking for me. He told me my dad didn’t care. It hurt but I figured that he was right. It had been such a long time.**

Guilt wasn’t just gnawing now. It was biting, tearing off chunks, _devouring_. Hiccup had thought they’d forgotten him, that they didn’t care, that they’d just decided to leave him to Dagur. It wasn’t true in the slightest, but the fact that he’d felt that way hurt so badly and so deeply. Would he ever forgive them for how long it had taken? Would she ever forgive herself?

**Of course no one would be coming for me. Either they were dead or they didn’t care, and Dagur had confirmed that they didn’t care.**

**I resigned myself to life with him.**

_No wonder he’s such a mess._ It was an understatement of how he was, but at least some of it was starting to make sense now. Hiccup had accepted that he’d be with Dagur for the rest of his life, that he’d never see his friends or family again. He’d found his footing amongst the turmoil and pain, and upon rescuing him they’d tripped him up and knocked him down.

**He wasn’t so bad to me when I cooperated. He still hurt me, but not so badly. It was different when he was hurting me for his own enjoyment rather than to punish me for something I shouldn’t have done in the first place. I’m his property and I was okay with that. It wasn’t all bad. I need sex and he’d give it to me.**

Another glance at Hiccup. One of his wrists was visible, and there was a faint line of rope burn on it. She wondered when they would have to do that again, deal with that other part of him that was Dagur’s creation.

**He was going to take me to his castle, make me his advisor, get me a new collar with jewels on it.**

Astrid found herself doubled over, choking, dry-heaving. Luckily nothing came out, because she didn’t want to have a mess to clean up. A new collar. With jewels. Like he was some kind of animal. More images of killing Dagur flashed through her head as she straightened herself. Her tears were slowing, probably because she was close to the end. She didn’t know how she’d react once she finished, didn’t know how she’d be feeling. She kept reading.

**I would have lived in luxury, free of pain save for whatever he decided to inflict on me. He would have made me special. I was special to him. I am special to him. He does actually love me but it’s so different from everyone else that it doesn’t seem like love. I was going to see him get married, have kids. I resigned myself to living the rest of my life with him as his slave, advisor, and lover.**

**Then I was rescued, and now I don’t know what to think. My ideas of the future have been completely ruined. I don’t know what I want for myself anymore. I don’t know what I should want.** **I want Dagur but I don’t want Dagur.** **I hate him. I hate myself. Everything’s so messed up and I just want to scream and never stop. I want my old life back. I want the old me back. I wish I’d never been captured. I wish none of this had happened. I hate it. I hate everything. -----------------------------**

And that was the end, save for whatever he’d crossed out.

_“I hate it. I hate everything.”_

Astrid put the pages back where she had found them, hands trembling. She felt like spikes were being driven into her chest, and now she could understand Hiccup’s want to scream, because she now had the desire to do the same.

But, she remained silent, and just looked at him through a sheen of tears.

“Oh, Hiccup.”


	94. Chapter 93

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the longer wait on this! I've been busy with other things and not feeling my best, but I'm very happy with this chapter and I hope you will be too!
> 
> Warning: mentions of self-harm, mentions of suicide attempt, suicidal thoughts

Heather couldn’t sleep. It felt like she had butterflies in her stomach, and she didn’t know why. Sure, she guessed she’d been feeling nervous and upset since receiving the news about the baby, but that had been a few days ago. Why was she feeling this?

She sat up, hoping she wouldn’t disturb Astrid, who was asleep beside her. She hadn’t been talking much lately, like something was deeply upsetting her, but each time Heather asked her about it she just deflected the question. She most definitely wasn’t telling her something, but Heather guessed it was okay, because she was keeping things from her as well. She hadn’t told her about what Gothi had said. And she hadn’t come to a decision yet either.

Heather got out of bed, began to pace, rubbing at her stomach. Why was she feeling like this?

“Heather?” Astrid asked groggily. Heather turned, and she could make out her form, sitting up in the dark. “Is everything okay?”

“I… don’t know,” Heather answered. She sat down on the bed. “It’s like I have butterflies in my stomach or something.”

Astrid put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Are you nervous about something?”

Heather shrugged. She was nervous about the baby, but she hadn’t had this feeling over it before. “Don’t think so.”

“Hm.” Though Heather couldn’t see her, she knew that Astrid frowned.

“What are you thinking?” Heather asked.

“Can I put a hand on your stomach?”

“Sure.”

Astrid shifted closer to do so, and then one of her hands was on her abdomen. Astrid left it there for a while in silence, moved it around a little, feeling over different spots.

“Heather, I can- I think the baby’s moving.” There was awe in her voice.

“What?”

“Here. Look.” Astrid gently took her hand, placed it where hers had been. For a moment Heather felt nothing but that strange fluttering sensation inside her, but then she felt it on her hand too, felt what could only be movement. Movement. A reminder that she had a living being inside of her, an innocent child that had never done wrong, but could die anyway. And she’d been considering getting rid of them instead of continuing to carry them and hoping that they lived. She’d been leaning towards that option in the last few days, bogged down by the knowledge that this pregnancy could all lead to nothing but her own child dead in her arms. But… her child wasn’t dead now. They were living, moving, and if she induced early labor, she would kill it.

Heather became overwhelmed with a rush of emotion so fast it felt like her chest was caving in, and there was no build-up of tears, no time for an ache to form in her throat. She just started sobbing.

“Heather? Heather, what’s wrong?” Astrid’s voice was frantic, and her arms were suddenly around her, holding her against her.

“I-I finally had Goth- had Gothi examine m-me,” Heather got out through heaving breaths that rocked her entire body. “A-and she said…” She couldn’t finish, words dying out into more crying. She just couldn’t get them out, couldn’t say it just yet. For now, she had to cry.

Astrid soothingly stroked a hand through Heather’s hair. “You can tell me after. Just cry it out first.”

And Heather did. By the time she was finished, Astrid’s hair and nightdress were soaked. Heather didn’t bother straightening off of her, but she did lift a hand to wipe at her face.

“She told me the baby is likely to die,” Heather told Astrid hoarsely after some time in silence where she just collected her breath. “That it’ll probably be premature and not make it. She… She gave me the option to induce early labor and get rid of it. And I was… I was considering that. But now…”

“You don’t want to,” Astrid finished. “You want to take any chance that the baby will live.”

Heather just nodded against her.

“You’re brave, Heather.” Astrid was caressing her back now. “I believe in you. You can get through this. And when you give birth, whenever that is, I’ll be right there by your side. Everything will be alright.”

  


Astrid was there when Hiccup woke. He didn’t have his eyes open yet, but he could sense her sitting by the bed. He felt… almost good for once. His body wasn’t hurting as badly as when he’d gone to sleep, and he felt well-rested despite the plethora of nightmares. Luckily, they’d been interspersed with good dreams or simply times of peaceful darkness.

He shifted a little, foot bumping into Toothless, who evidently had his head resting at the bottom of his bed. He almost wanted to just go back to sleep, feeling peaceful and comfortable and relaxed, but he had bodily needs to take care of. Besides, Astrid was probably here for a reason.

Anxiety sparked inside him and tightened his chest. What he’d written. He’d left it for Astrid. She’d read it. She must have.

“Hiccup? You awake?”

“Workin’ on it,” Hiccup mumbled. He was positioned on his stomach, and he rolled onto his back. That hurt his hips, but not as badly as before. “What day is it?” He still didn’t bother opening his eyes, let his hands rest on his stomach. His right arm was twinging a little, and he almost wondered why before remembering that he’d cut it.

“Freya’s Day,” Astrid told him. “January 17th.”

“Ugh, how long was I asleep?”

“Two days, give or take a few hours,” she answered. “How do you feel?”

Hiccup opened his eyes now, looked over at her. “Rested. Hungry and thirsty though.”

“Oh yeah, I brought you some water.” Astrid stood and picked up a flask from his desk. “Let me help you sit up.”

Hiccup’s skin crawled at Astrid’s hand on his back, but he was grateful for the support and for the way she positioned his pillow behind him so he could sit comfortably against the headboard. Then she handed him the flask and he was drinking quite heartily from it. It felt good going down his throat. He tried to wash away his anxiety with each swallow, but it remained. There was a slight tension coming off of Astrid, he thought. Or maybe he was just imagining that.

Once he finished, he handed it back to her and she put it on his desk. She sat, and there was silence, her hands clasped between her thighs.

“Hiccup.”

“Mm-hm?”

“I read it.”

“I know.”

More silence. It was heavier now, like a thick cloud hanging over them, ready to drop all sorts of nasty precipitation.

Hiccup was looking at Astrid now, but she had her head down, staring at the floor.

“How did you…?” She didn’t seem to know what to ask. She took a breath. “How did you endure all of that?”

 _Bryn._ But Hiccup had crossed out the parts about Bryn. Astrid didn’t know about her. Certainly she’d question him about the parts that were crossed out though. She’d know there was something he was hiding.

“I… There was someone…” Hiccup felt like his throat was clogging up. He didn’t know how to explain any of it. Worse, he’d loved Bryn, still did, had kissed her. He’d entirely given up on Astrid during his captivity, had given himself to Dagur, to Viggo, had tried forming a relationship with Bryn. “I cheated on you, Astrid.”

Astrid looked up at him, lips pursed, shaking her head. “No, no you didn’t. Dagur, and… and Viggo - _gods_ , that wasn’t your _fault._ ”

Hiccup didn’t know how to argue that with her, didn’t know how to say that he counted that all in his head as well. They weren’t discussing Dagur and Viggo though. That was an argument for later. They were discussing Bryn.

“I did.”

Astrid shook her head harder. “No, Hiccup. You didn’t.”

Hiccup didn’t know how to say it. Words were pounding away at his closed mouth, desperate to get out, to explain.

“What do you think the crossed out parts were?” Hiccup asked. He could start there. He found that he was able to meet her in the eye. Something about it was easier now that she knew everything. Or, almost everything. He wasn’t hiding it from her now, and she wasn’t judging. She was simply looking at him the way she had used to.

“I tried to ignore them at first,” Astrid answered honestly. She shrugged as if this was all no big deal. “I figured that it was… something more horrific than what wasn’t crossed out.”

Hiccup barked out a hoarse laugh, jarring his ribs, and Toothless stirred at the end of the bed, rumbling, lifting his head. He nodded his head at Hiccup in acknowledgement, and Hiccup did it back. Toothless looked happy to see him awake, but he didn’t instantly smother him with affection. He seemed to understand that there was something serious going on.

“Oh, it wasn’t. That was the only good part.” He wanted to cry now. He missed Bryn. He missed her so badly. A full month hadn’t even passed since her death.

Astrid tilted her head, now clearly confused. “Hiccup, what are you talking about?”

Hiccup looked away from her, to Toothless, who was studying him intently. Hiccup couldn’t look at him either, and he tilted his head away to look at the far wall where it connected with the ceiling. Her name was in his throat, on his tongue, but trapped behind his tightly clenched jaw. Astrid just waited in the silence, not pushing him to speak, and he was grateful for that. Could he really do this? Could he really tell her? What if she hated him?

 _But she knows what happened and doesn’t hate me. She knows I did things of my own volition. How does she not hate me?_ But what if she was on the verge of hating him, was still holding out and this would be the final straw? He hated himself, but he didn’t want that hatred returned. He… He loved Astrid. He did. He just wasn’t ready to say it yet. The word love made his stomach twist and bile rise in his throat.

Finally: “Her name was Bryn.”

“Hiccup?”

Hiccup still didn’t look at her. Now that he’d told Astrid her name, he had to keep going, let it gush out of him like water from a broken dam.

“She was a slave. Like me. Well, not like me. She didn’t do what I did. She didn’t know at first. She’d bring me my food. She stayed and talked with me when she did. She was the only person I talked to that wasn’t Dagur. She was so sweet and kind. So inquisitive.” Hiccup found himself smiling thinking of her, tears forming in his eyes. He looked down into his lap. “She was worried about me. She listened to everything I said. I liked her instantly. Just as a friend at first. I had no one else.” He had to pause, breaths coming a little harder. His chest ached like he wouldn’t believe, like all his ribs were splintering, and the pain was stretching fingers into his throat and squeezing. Astrid didn’t speak, let him collect himself, knowing that he wasn’t finished.

“She was innocent and naive,” Hiccup finally made himself go on. “And I needed that. Nothing about Dagur is innocent and it was staggering to have someone that was. It was so jarring to go from Bryn, not knowing about sex or rape or torture or any of that, and then see Dagur in the next hour and be fucked by him. And then later I would see Bryn again. There were times where I tried explaining it to her, but I never knew how, and I didn’t want to ruin that innocence. But then she… saw one time. When she brought in dinner. She saw him…” He had to pause for another breath. Tears were streaming down his cheeks now, but he didn’t stop to wipe them away. “She asked about it of course. Was always asking questions. It was annoying sometimes, but endearing. I still couldn’t really explain it to her. Just said that he was hurting me, and then I blurted out that he… that he lov-” His voice broke. He sobbed. That word was _awful_ and twisted and terrible. It shouldn’t have been, but it was. “Loved me.”

Hiccup sniffled, wiped his nose on his sleeve, though the action wasn’t very dignified. “We grew closer. She was there for me, mostly knew what was going on. She let me cry on her, talk to her. I was even able to laugh with her. Then a couple days after Viggo tortured me with the venom, she kissed me. I… I was so confused. My body…” He didn’t have to go on. Astrid had seen how his body was now, how it reacted to things, how _he_ reacted to things. “I got scared and made her leave. For a while after that I would just pretend I was sleeping every time she brought me food, but then finally we had to talk. I told her I didn’t know what I was feeling. How could I? I _still_ don’t know what I’m feeling, and maybe I never will, but that’s not the point.”

Hiccup swallowed. He couldn’t believe he was doing this, but he couldn’t stop now. The waters from the dam weren’t done being released.

“We stayed friends, but then, after Viggo, well, fucked me-”

That was where Astrid interjected. “No, Hiccup, he raped you.”

Hiccup looked at her now. “Did he? Does it really count if I opened my legs for him? Or came for him?”

“Hiccup, did you not read your own writing?” Astrid asked. “You wrote that you were trying to protect us but that you wanted it to stop. There was no consent in that.”

“But I didn’t fight him,” Hiccup protested.

“Doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t have had to fight _anyone_ for your own body.”

“But I let it _happen_ to me, Astrid. I could have called for Dagur’s guards, gotten him off of me. But I was so… so ashamed.” He shook his head. “And then I failed at protecting all of you anyway.” He met her in the eye. “Astrid, how many people die-?”

“Tell me more about Bryn,” Astrid cut him off. She moved the chair closer to the bed as if in eagerness.

“But how many-?”

“Please.” Astrid reached over, as if to take his hand, but then frowned and lowered it. Hiccup was fine with that. He didn’t want to hold hands right now.

Hiccup wanted to know how many people had gotten killed in Viggo’s attack, how many people _he_ had technically killed. But the point of this had been to talk about Bryn and he’d gotten sidetracked. Why was Astrid interested though? How was she not mad?

“Why?”

“I want to know about this girl that kept you alive,” Astrid told him sincerely.

Hiccup squinted at her oddly.

“Please. She deserves all my gratitude. I need to know about her.”

Hiccup hadn’t expected this reaction. He’d expected anger, maybe even pain on his part, though he knew that was illogical. Astrid wasn’t one to hurt him. The worst he got from her was a playful punch on the arm every now and then, one that didn’t even bruise. He was fine with those, understanding that that was how she showed affection. Well, he had been fine with those. But if anyone brought a fist near him now…

_Bryn. Talk about Bryn._

“Well, um.” He rubbed at his neck. “After… Viggo, I, uh, I kissed her. I guess I…” not love- “felt romantically towards her. We kind of became a thing after that I guess. I’m sorry, Astrid. I thought I’d never see you again, and she was the only good thing in my life, the only thing keeping me alive… I didn’t know what else to do. I told myself not to feel bad about it, but I do and I can understand if you’re mad at me, but-”

Now Astrid did take his hand, and Hiccup jumped a little at the touch, his rambling cut off. Astrid went to remove her hand but Hiccup took it in two of his own, letting her know he was actually fine with the touching for now.

“Hiccup, it’s alright.” Astrid was looking at him in such a sincere and endearing manner that it made his heart race, but with what, he didn’t know. She looked away from him for a moment. “I guess I cheated too, didn’t I?”

“But you needed someone,” Hiccup told her. “You didn’t cheat.”

Astrid smiled at him a little. “Then apply the same logic to yourself, genius.”

“Okay, okay.” Hiccup squeezed her hand a little. “We’ll both agree that we didn’t cheat on each other.”

“Right,” Astrid said firmly with a nod. “I know you feel guilty though. Please don’t. This girl - Bryn - she’s the reason you’re alive, the reason you’re here with me right now. I love her for that, Hiccup. And I swear we’ll rescue her from Dagur and-”

“You can’t.” Now Hiccup pulled his hands away. A hammer smashed his chest and splintered it like he was made of pottery. The pain was unbelievable and he didn’t know how he wasn’t screaming.

“Why not?”

“She’s dead.” Hiccup said it bluntly, clearly, without stuttering. “And it’s my fault.” He was turning his head all the way to look at the wall, could feel Astrid’s questioning and sad eyes on him. “I killed her.”

“Hiccup, you couldn’t have. What are you talking about?”

“He found out about her. About us,” Hiccup began to explain. “No one was - is -  supposed to touch me and I knew that, but I let her anyway. I kissed her anyway. If I hadn’t gotten close with her she’d still be alive.” He didn’t know how he was stating all of this without crying. It was like all his emotions had drained through the cracks in himself and he was suddenly feeling nothing. It terrified him a little. “He killed her. In front of me. Snapped her neck and threw her body down like it meant nothing, and to him she did mean nothing. Then he took me and all I could do was stare at her cold, dead eyes and scream with everything I had in me. When he was done with me he took her outside and told the guards to get rid of her body and throw it in the woods. I wanted her to get a proper burial, or a grand funeral, but I couldn’t speak or move. I broke with her neck and it’s all my fault.”

A heavy silence. Toothless made a small noise in it, looked between Hiccup and Astrid, waiting for one of them to speak.

“That was Snoggletog, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t kill her.”

“I did.”

“No.”

“I did!” Hiccup suddenly shouted, whipping his head around to face her. “She’d be alive if it wasn’t for me!” His emotions were returning now, seeping back into him like a choking black liquid.

“But then _you’d_ be dead! You tried to kill yourself without her!”

“How is that fair?! Why should my life matter more than hers?!” Anger was rising now, at himself, at Astrid for not understanding how this was his fault. “Maybe I want to be dead, Astrid! Maybe that was the last thing I crossed out!”

Astrid pulled back a little, blinking rapidly in shock, and Hiccup’s breath caught. He realized he shouldn’t have said that, should have just kept it to himself. He continued anyway.

“I _should_ be dead. Dagur shouldn’t have saved me. He should have left the damn chain around my neck.” Hiccup was falling now, falling into a large, black pit, and he didn’t bother to catch himself, try to find handholds or a way to climb out. He was going to let himself hit the bottom.

“But I…” Astrid seemed at a loss of what to say. She was standing above the pit, watching him fall, but she didn’t have a rope, and Hiccup didn’t think he would grab it even if she did. She drew a breath, straightened, squared her shoulders. “What would Bryn think?”

“What?”

“What would Bryn think if you lost this battle and showed up in Valhalla so soon after her?” Astrid questioned.

Hiccup caught a ledge he found in the darkness, scrabbled at it. He hadn’t considered that. He didn’t know how to answer, just tightened his lips and looked away. Astrid was making a good point and he was too stubborn to admit it.

“You think she’d be happy about it?”

Hiccup was crawling up onto the ledge now, looking up. The sky was only a pinprick of blue above him, but as he watched it began to widen, as if he was rushing upwards, being dragged out by something, saved from himself.

“She kept you alive while she was still here. Why should her death change that?”

He could see Astrid now. She had a rope and she threw it. It dangled by him, within reach.

“She can still keep you alive. Honor her by staying alive. Honor her by getting through this.”

Hiccup grabbed at the rope and was yanked all the way up and out, and suddenly he was crying, hard, clutching at himself to simulate a hug. Astrid was right. Of course she was right. He couldn’t do that, couldn’t kill himself. It’d be a dishonor to Bryn if he did, and he couldn’t do that. She was too important to him.

Astrid moved towards him, hugged him, and Hiccup pressed his head against her chest in acceptance of the touch. She cradled the back of his head with one hand.

“I’m sorry, Astrid! You’re right! I’m sorry!”

“Don’t apologize for feeling this way.”

Hiccup wanted to apologize for apologizing, but he kept it to himself. He felt like such a burden as he rested against Astrid and bawled his eyes out - to the dismay of his still-injured ribs. He’d lost weight but he felt like he must have weighed a thousand pounds against her.

Astrid began stroking his hair, and for a second his heart fluttered in panic, but then he registered that the hand doing it was small and feminine and clearly not Dagur’s, clearly Astrid’s instead. Not Dagur.

“She’d be proud of you for making it this far,” Astrid told him in a soothing tone. “She probably is proud of you, cheering you on from Valhalla.”

Though he was crying, Hiccup somehow smiled a little at the image, at Bryn smiling and cheering, and it gave him the will to go on, to draw in his next breath and the one after that.

Once Hiccup stopped crying he just rested against Astrid, catching his breath, tears drying, body aching. He didn’t know who to thank: Bryn or Astrid?

“Thank you, Astrid.”

_Thank you, Bryn._

Hiccup was pretty sure he only imagined it, but he felt a gentle hand on his cheek and a whisper meant only for him: _“You’re welcome.”_

_ _

Lovely art by [in-dragons-we-trust](https://in-dragons-we-trust.tumblr.com/)!


	95. Chapter 94

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys have your tickets for another emotional rollercoaster?

Astrid stayed with Hiccup after he’d eaten. While he was eating they didn’t talk about anything important, and he almost wanted to fall asleep again, exhausted from letting out his emotions, from crying, his body hurting. He knew they weren’t done talking though, knew that there was more that Astrid wanted to discuss. He’d bared his scarred and tormented soul to her in that writing. It wasn’t something that could just be ignored. Hiccup felt like maybe he could answer her questions, now that she knew all the events.

“Was there any way to make it better?” Astrid asked. “Like, were you allowed to get drunk?”

“Yeah, I was,” Hiccup answered. Toothless had his head in his lap, was warbling happily as Hiccup scratched at him, and the sound and the look on his face made him smile. He wondered if Toothless had left his side at all while he’d been asleep. “It helped. Made me not care or not remember. Made me not hurt inside. It’s why I want it now, but Stoick told you guys not to bring me any…” He looked hopefully to Astrid, hoping maybe she would go against that.

“Sorry, Hiccup. It’s for the best, really. It’s not good for you.”

“Then what is good for me?”

Astrid looked stumped, and Hiccup realized he had asked an impossible question.

“Sorry, sorry. Bad question.” He looked back to Toothless, paying a lot of attention to him. He realized it was keeping him calm and allowing him to talk about all of this.

“So, what was it like when he drugged you? Do you know what he gave you?”

“This sounds crazy, but, nutmeg, actually,” Hiccup answered. Toothless lifted his head to him, and, knowing what he wanted, Hiccup took his head in both hands and rubbed his nose against his. Toothless pulled away and smiled, licked at his face, and despite the dark topic, Hiccup couldn’t help but laugh.

“Nutmeg? But that’s, well, normal,” Astrid said.

“I know.” Hiccup rubbed his nose against Toothless’ again, which resulted in him getting licked more, and he really didn’t mind the dragon saliva wetting his face. He’d missed this. “I guess if you give someone a lot of it it acts like a drug. It erased my sense of time, made me feel like I was floating, heightened all my senses, so anything good felt… amazing.” He was uncomfortable now, thinking of the first time Dagur had drugged him, how  _ good  _ he’d made his body feel, and gods it made him sick. “And anything bad felt worse.” He forced himself to think about the second drugging, because though he was sickened by the first one, his body wasn’t, was starting to heat at the memory of it, recalling the sensations. “It made it so I could hardly move or talk. Made me do everything he said.” Anger was burning in him now. Dagur had made him say he  _ loved  _ him, and he didn’t. He hated him, hated him so much, but he’d made him say it anyway. 

“What about the hallucinations?” Astrid asked. “You mentioned hallucinations the second time in your writing.”

“Oh, yeah.” Hiccup scratched Toothless under the chin. “First time caused minor visual hallucinations, second time… he gave me a lot more. Caused visual and auditory. He actually, um, blindfolded me the first time, so I didn’t know about the hallucinations till after he took it off.”

And the blindfold had just made every physical touch seem even more heightened than what it had been with just the drug in him. He’d liked it at the time, had enjoyed everything Dagur made him feel. Suddenly, he felt his cock stirring, and he released an angered growling sound at himself, tried tamping all those thoughts back down. He glued his eyes to Toothless’ gaze.

“Hiccup, you okay?”

“Um…” Hiccup didn’t know how to answer. He didn’t want that part of him to surface, not now. He didn’t want to be tied up again, especially not when he was finally able to feel mostly comfortable opening up to someone. He cleared his throat, unsure of how to provide an explanation. The other part of him was surging up, and he had to wrestle it back down. He blinked, shook his head like if he moved enough he could throw it off of himself. “Gah!”

“Hiccup, what is it?” Astrid was most definitely concerned now. There was a light touch on his wrist.  _ No.  _ She really shouldn’t have touched him. He violently drew his hand back, whipped his head in her direction, eyes wide.

“I don’t… Talk about something else!”

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t want to be tied up!” Hiccup shouted. “I don’t want to be! Please, Astrid!”

Toothless rumbled at him in concern, pressed his face to his, and Hiccup gripped him in a hug, squeezed his eyes shut. Lust was raging through his blood like lava, and he wanted it to stop. The other Hiccup was pulling himself up, trying to fit himself into his body. It  _ hurt. _

“Um, uh… Bryn! Tell me more about Bryn!”

“’Scuse me?” Hiccup was relieved that Astrid didn’t hate him for that, had been stunned by her reaction to the whole thing, but he hadn’t thought she’d want to hear more about her.

“Yeah, tell me more about her. Like, what did she look like?”

Hiccup didn’t question her, knew that she was trying to help distract him, so he went with it.

“Uh, she was short,” he got out quickly. “Like, around Snotlout’s height or a little shorter.” The image of Bryn began to appear in his head, shoving aside that other him so it could have space. Hiccup swore he could hear the other version of himself shriek furiously at that.

“Okay, keep going.”

“She had long, dark brown hair,” Hiccup continued. His heart was pounding. “Blue eyes. A lot like yours actually. Pale skin, some freckles. Had this cute one near the tip of her nose that I would look at if I wanted to pretend I was making eye contact.” Hiccup had to pause to take a breath, and when he did, that other self was coming back, and he hurried on, terrified that if he let himself stop talking, that it would swallow him. “Honestly, she was really small. Probably underfed being a slave and all. Her brand was on the back of her right shoulder.” Now Hiccup felt like he had to explain. “I-I didn’t see her naked. She just pulled down her dress a little to show me.” Hiccup didn’t know how Astrid was letting him talk about another girl like this, how she could be fine with it and had suggested it as a way to help him. He didn’t know what else to say though. The other him was trying to steal his voice, take it for himself.

“A-Astrid, I can’t! I can’t!” he cried. Hiccup shoved Toothless away from him, clutched at his blankets with trembling hands. He wanted to scream. He wanted Astrid to kiss him. No, wait. He didn’t. He definitely didn’t want that. No, he did. He wanted her to touch him everywhere, take him, give him pleasure.

_ Bryn. Think of Bryn. No. Think of Astrid. Think of… Think of… _

Hiccup was at a loss. He couldn’t think. He felt like his mind was being torn to shreds by need and all his coherent thought with it. Though, he was able to get out one more thing before he lost himself:

“Tie me up!”

  
  


Astrid somehow managed to shove Toothless outside, though the dragon didn’t want to leave Hiccup. She pleaded with him to go though, pushed at him until finally he let himself be put on the other side of the door. Though, he began whining and scratching at it as soon as it was closed and she was racing back up the stairs.

One look at this other version of Hiccup and she knew she would have to fight him this time. The first time this had happened Hiccup had still been there, had been fighting to hang on, but now he was gone and Dagur’s creation was left in his place. He’d torn his shirt off, had ripped off his blankets and cast them to the floor, and as Astrid was returning he was sticking a hand down his pants and groaning.

“Hiccup, stop it!” She couldn’t grab for his hand right now though, had to dive under the bed for where she had hidden the rope. As she was pulling herself up with it, there was a sudden, painful tug on her braid. “Ow!”

She grabbed at the hand in her hair and ripped it off, giving this not-Hiccup a glare. She felt anger at him, at the real Hiccup, but then she looked into his eyes and remembered that it wasn’t him she was dealing with. She was definitely glad he was still injured, because all not-Hiccup could do was shout in frustration and try to grab for her again, but she was up and dancing out of his reach.

“Come on!” Astrid hadn’t exactly wanted to see, but not-Hiccup had his cock free from his pants now, holding it in a way as if he was  _ offering  _ it to her. “You know you want this.”

“You’re going to stay put right there and not touch me,” Astrid ordered, pointing a finger at him, though she doubted it was going to get through.

“Ooh, are we playing a game? Are you going to tie me up and fuck me really good?”

Those words were so foreign to hear in Hiccup’s voice, and Astrid would have sworn that it didn’t actually come from his mouth save for the fact that his lips were the same shape and his voice was the same.

Astrid was about to say no, but then she realized that this might be the only way she’d be able to get him restrained. She would have to go along with him for now it seemed.

“Yeah,” she told him, approaching the bed again, carefully. He didn’t grab at her violently this time, put a gentle hand on her waist that almost made her wonder if this was the real Hiccup, or if he’d gained some control back. Hiccup wasn’t present though. There was only lust in his eyes. “I need you to cooperate, okay? I’ll have sex with you if you do.”

Not-Hiccup nodded eagerly, yanked at her a little. “Kiss me first though.” 

Astrid didn’t want to, but she leaned in and did it anyway, and not-Hiccup moaned against her mouth. She hated this, but she had to trick him, had to go along with him until he was properly restrained. She straddled him, being careful of the spikes on her skirt, not wanting to hurt him. His hardened length poked at her through her leggings, and the sensation aroused her a little, but she could ignore it. She was  _ not  _ going to take him like this, not when he wasn’t himself. There was nothing right about that, and the thought of even following through on it turned her stomach. Though, she had to make him think that she was going to follow through, so she began grinding against him.

Not-Hiccup released her mouth to moan into open air. Astrid hated her body because it knew that sound, knew it well, and she was beginning to grow wet from all this. That was the last thing she needed right now.

Not-Hiccup tried to take ahold of her with his other hand, but she pried it off of her and placed it near the headboard, still working herself against him.

“Both hands by the headboard,” she ordered.

Not-Hiccup complied, tilted his head back in clear ecstasy. When he whined out her name it was the most needy thing she’d ever heard.

Then Astrid was pressing herself against him in order to tie him up, and not-Hiccup’s mouth found her neck. She gasped in surprise at first, but then made herself ignore it, even as she continued bucking against his cock, making him moan against her skin. His mouth went lower, seeking her breasts even through her shirt, and her nipples hardened as he nipped at her. His attentions only made her work faster, more frantically.

Finally, he was restrained, and Astrid practically threw herself off of him, moving away as quickly as she could.

“Wait, what are you…? Astrid,  _ please. _ ” A desperate, panicked look came over not-Hiccup’s face, and he tugged on his bonds. Then he seemed to realize what she’d done, and he screamed.

  
  


Hiccup sat with his head in his hands, too ashamed to look at Astrid. She’d put his shirt by him, but he had yet to put it back on, afraid to move and draw attention to himself. The most he’d done since being untied was tuck himself away with burning cheeks. They were both silent now that it was over. Hiccup knew he had to be the one to break that silence.

He lowered his hands, just looked down at them. “I’m sorry I’m such a whore,” he said quietly. He was. That’s exactly what he was, exactly why he remembered not-himself grabbing at Astrid and begging for her to fuck him. And then she hadn’t, and he’d been left to scream and cry and beg some more. Then when Astrid hadn’t sated him he’d started begging for Dagur.

“Hiccup, you’re not…” Astrid’s voice was pained. “You’re not a whore.”

“Sure,” he said glumly, entirely unconvinced. If he wasn’t a whore why did he want sex like that? Why had his enemies looked at him and saw it fitting to take his body? How was she still arguing against that when she’d read everything he’d done? “I’m  _ definitely  _ not a whore. Nope.  _ Especially  _ not Dagur’s. No way in Hel.” His words were sardonic. “Not like I sucked and rode his cock and let him fuck me.” There was no point in trying to be vague now. He could be as blunt as he wanted. “Nope. Nothing of the like happened. Not at all.”

Astrid sighed heavily. “Hiccup, that doesn’t matter to me.”

“No? You don’t look at me and feel at least a little disgust?” He picked at the fabric of his pants. He was steadily growing used to them.

“No.”

She sounded genuine, but Hiccup couldn’t be sure, so he carefully glanced at her. She was giving him a hard, determined look. She actually meant it. She shouldn’t have. Hiccup was atrocious and he knew it.

“What if I told you something I didn’t write down?”

“Wouldn’t change anything.”

“You don’t know that.” Hiccup looked away from her again.

“Fine.” The chair creaked, Astrid leaning back in it probably. “If you want to tell me, then tell me.”

“I…” Now Hiccup found that he almost couldn’t admit it. There was a reason he hadn’t written this down. Bile rose in his throat and he had to swallow it down. “I was inside him. Twice. He pinned me down and… rode me. And we both got off to it. That was worse than all the other times. I’d felt like I’d betrayed you before, but that was just… that was the worst. I only ever wanted to be inside you, and he took that and ruined it.  _ Every single part  _ of me belongs to him. H-he knows my body better than you do.” Hiccup had never wanted to say this, had never even really let himself think about it, but if he was baring the truth, he might as well say it: “And he was better at… pleasuring me than you were. I mean, he hurt me, and I hate him with everything I had, but he just gave me something that I crave and I don’t  _ want  _ to crave it. I’m not saying this to make you jealous or anything, but I just thought you should know.” The silence after was heavy, and his throat felt dry. He didn’t know how Astrid would respond.

Astrid drew a deep breath before speaking. “Then when you’re ready, you communicate with me. You tell me what you like and I’ll help you. Alright?”

Hiccup opened his mouth to speak, and only a croak came out, so he just nodded. His face was flushed, and he felt so ashamed by what he’d just admitted to. It was true though. An awful truth, but a truth nonetheless. Some of the orgasms Dagur had given him had been mind-blowing and earth-shattering. They had been like nothing he’d ever experienced before, and it was like his being was desperately craving that. Not now, though, thank the gods. He was tired out from the ordeal with not-himself, and probably wouldn’t have to deal with him for a while.

“Okay.” Astrid put a hand by the bed beside him. “Can I hold your hand?”

Hiccup was glad she had asked instead of just doing it, and as an answer, he slipped his hand into hers. He looked at her, feeling an odd mix of emotions. 

“Astrid, I…” No, he couldn’t say it. Not  _ that  _ word. He was fighting down bile again. He wasn’t ready to tell her that, but he felt it. “How can you accept me for who I am now if I can’t even do that? I’m still his property.”

“Hiccup, you don’t have to be his property if you don’t want to be.”

“You know that’s not how it works.”

“But why can’t it work that way?” Astrid asked gently. She nodded towards his brand. “That’s a part of you now. It doesn’t have to have the same meaning your whole life. It doesn’t have to mean something bad.”

Hiccup looked down at the shape of the Skrill in his chest, over his damned heart. 

“How could it mean anything else? What should it mean?”

“How about… a badge of honor?”

Hiccup didn’t know how to respond to that, just raised his eyebrows at her questioningly, giving her a look that asked if he was serious.

“Yeah, I’m serious,” Astrid told him, knowing what the look meant. “You were supposed to be his property for life, were supposed to be with him for life, but you’re not. You’re here, you’re free of him, and you’re alive.”

“I don’t feel free of him,” Hiccup mumbled. There were times where it was like his scent was stuck in his nostrils, his taste on his tongue, his voice in his mind. He was gone from Dagur, but Dagur wasn’t gone from him. “Not with this thing on me. I hate it, Astrid. It’s awful and it has to go.”

“What if I could prove to you that it’s not awful?” Astrid asked.

“And how on Earth could you do that?”

Astrid slid her hand up to gently stroke his arm, and the touch tingled pleasantly. “Can I touch you?” she asked. “I promise I won’t go below your waist and I won’t do anything sexual. Just say stop and I will.”

Hiccup pursed his lips, thinking that one over. What did Astrid have in mind? He was a little afraid at the idea of more physical contact, but his curiosity was overriding that. He nodded.

“I have to hear you say it.”

“Yes. You can touch me.” Hiccup’s throat constricted at the words. He felt like he’d just given consent to everything, given his entire body to her, even though she’d said that wasn’t the case. He was just so used to everything being taken from him that he feared it would happen again. Maybe if he could get through whatever this was, he wouldn’t feel that way anymore. Maybe it would help him realize that that wasn’t going to happen to him anymore.

Astrid took his hand again, and Hiccup watched her curiously. Why would she even want to be touched by him? But then she was acting as if she truly did. She pulled his hand up, put it to her cheek, closed her eyes for a moment and nuzzled into it. Then she was kissing at his fingers, his palm, and Hiccup felt like he couldn’t breathe, but it was like he couldn’t blink either, just watching her, completely enraptured with her actions.

Astrid did the same with his right hand. She didn’t say anything about the scabs on his forearm, though there was an acknowledgement of them in her eyes, a sadness, a question:  _ “Why did you do that to yourself?”  _ Hiccup felt like if he spoke he would break the sanctity of the moment, so he didn’t answer.

Astrid leaned forward, stroking carefully over the scar in his side. She lowered her head, and Hiccup was afraid that she  _ was  _ going to do something sexual to him, but then her lips touched his brand. Shock rode through him at the contact and for a moment he couldn’t decide what to do. Then, he realized that he didn’t have to do anything. Astrid wasn’t going to hurt him.

Hiccup’s chest heaved as Astrid followed the shape of his brand with her lips. It felt strange and new and different. The only lips he’d felt there before had been Dagur’s. Astrid’s were so different from his. Though, the way she was kissing the brand reverently wasn’t anything new. She was reverent for a different reason however, reverent because it was  _ him _ . Dagur had kissed it like this out of the pure joy of owning him. Astrid was kissing it because it was a part of him now and she was showing it love, showing him that even with that terrible thing on him he was still worth it. He wasn’t nothing. Dagur had tried to make him nothing, and he’d failed miserably.

Hiccup’s chest and throat weren’t hurting anymore, and he felt like he could breathe more easily. In fact, it felt like the easiest he’d been breathing since his rescue.

Astrid lifted her head, still stroking her hand over his side, looking at him hopefully, questioningly, trying to gauge his reaction. Hiccup didn’t know what to say to her, didn’t know how to tell her that it felt like some sort of cage around him had just sprung open. Though, he wasn’t out of the cage yet, was afraid of walking out of it, but at least now the door was unlocked.

Hiccup took her hand, surged forward and kissed her gratefully on the cheek, which Astrid gave a little gasp at, clearly not expecting the action. Then, feeling brave, with his other hand, Hiccup gently took her chin, brought his mouth close to hers. There was a moment where they didn’t kiss, where they just breathed between each other with their eyes closed, both waiting to see if it was alright, feeling a little fearful. 

Hiccup surprised himself again. He was the one to close the distance, to press his lips to hers. He expected his stomach to clench and his breathing to stop, but none of those feelings of panic occurred. He actually felt good kissing Astrid. He felt genuinely  _ good _ .

He smiled, which briefly broke the kiss, but then went in for it again, moving his hand to gently cradle the back of her head. Astrid had her free hand on his chest, his brand, his  _ heart _ . She was right. He didn’t have to see that as Dagur owning him. Dagur had tried to claim both his body and his heart, but his heart didn’t belong to him and never would. Part of his heart belonged to Bryn, he knew, and he figured that it always would, but he realized he could give it to two different people and still feel whole. His heart belonged to Astrid. The way it was beating against her palm made that abundantly clear.

  

Incredible comic by [winxrus](http://winxrus.tumblr.com/)!


	96. Chapter 95

Viggo was a little uneasy walking into Dagur’s camp, almost expecting to be attacked, though he was sure Hiccup hadn’t told anyone about what had happened upon his last visit. He surely would have been dead long ago if that had been the case.

He felt more at ease with Ryker by his side though. Sure, Viggo could fight for himself and was quite good at it, but it was always good to have a hulking brute by your side to up the intimidation factor.

There was something off about the camp. It wasn’t the same as it had been on his last visit. Tents and other structures were collapsed here and there, and there were what looked to be scorch marks on some of the broken down pieces of wood. He figured there were probably more under the snow. Quite frankly, it looked like dragons had attacked this place, and everyone was still recovering. That would explain why he’d been able to just stride right in.

Though, he did stop someone who looked to be a soldier to inquire about Dagur’s whereabouts. The look of the camp left him worried. Would this whole trip have been fruitless?

The man shrugged. “Only one of two places. Check the command tent first maybe, but I don’t think he’s in the best of moods.”

“I’ll deal with that. Thank you.”

As Viggo and Ryker headed that way, Ryker said: “Looks like dragons attacked this place.”

“It does indeed.” As Viggo studied the damage, he realized that it looked much too concentrated and efficient for a wild dragon attack. “It appears the Dragon Riders have been here.”

Ryker, for once, didn’t ask him how he knew that. If his older brother had knowledge about at least one thing in his life, it was dragons, so he was most likely in agreement with him on that.

Viggo’s curiosity quickened his stride. He had to know if that had been the case, had to find out if the attack had been successful, or if the Dragon Riders had been defeated. Surely it was a foolish move, to attack Dagur right in the heart of his camp. They couldn’t have succeeded in trying to rescue Hiccup. He still had to be here. Viggo hoped he was, hoped he would somehow get the chance to see him and possibly enjoy him again.

Viggo was surprised to find that no one was guarding Dagur’s tent. Though, at least he wouldn’t have to deal with more people. He went inside, Ryker just behind him.

They were met with an… interesting sight to say the least. Dagur was sitting in the large chair behind his desk and drinking quite heartily. That wouldn’t have been overly strange all on its own, but Viggo could make out someone under the desk on all fours, and that someone was definitely not Hiccup. They had their head between Dagur’s legs, and that head was covered in short blonde hair.

“Uh, what the fuck is wrong with him?” Ryker asked quietly, pointing. Dagur didn’t seem to have noticed them.

“I’ll deal with him,” Viggo said just as quietly as he turned to Ryker. He gave him a little shove on his chest to signal to him to go.

“And what should I do?”

“Go find a woman to entertain yourself with or something,” Viggo replied.

Ryker didn’t seem to want to argue against that. “Good luck with the lunatic,” he said, and then he was leaving.

“What’d he juss call me?” Dagur slurred out, making Viggo jump a little. Though, he regained his composure quickly, turned to Dagur.

“Nothing you need worry about.” He took a few steps forward. “I must speak with you.”

The man between Dagur’s legs moved his head away with a little popping sound, and Viggo grimaced a little in distaste. Had Dagur been conducting business like this all day?

“Excuse me,” Dagur said, looking down. His tone was dangerous. “Did I tell you to shtop?”

“Uh, no, chief.”

“Don’t ‘no, chief,’ me! You wouldn’ be able ta speak if your mouth wash where it belonged. Now put it back!”

The man did so, and Dagur briefly closed his eyes, sighing. Why did he appear to be more of a disaster than usual? What had happened?

“Shouldn’t Hiccup be doing that for you?” Viggo asked carefully. 

“Yeah,” Dagur snapped. “But he’sh not fucking here!” His face contorted in an odd mix of sadness and anger, and then he was taking another swig from his bottle. “He’s gone.”

_ So the Dragon Riders did attack the camp. _

“How were the Riders able to get him out?”

Dagur made a face that spoke of embarrassment. “I’ll jush say that Heather is a conniving little bitch.” He gestured to the right side of his abdomen. “Stabbed me right here.”

Viggo could only imagine how she’d gotten in close enough to do that. Now that Ryker had made him aware of the odd and complex relationship between the Berserker siblings, he figured that she’d probably kissed him and tried seducing him. That was pretty much the only way to get Dagur to lower his guard enough to attempt a killing blow.

“How long ago was all this?” Viggo was utterly disappointed to hear that Hiccup was no longer with Dagur, but he couldn’t show that. Then again, maybe he could use that to his advantage to get Dagur to work with him.

“Hel, if I know. Mm… Yeah, right there, right there.”

Viggo rolled his eyes. “Is it possible we could conduct business without the thrall here?”

Dagur closed his eyes, held up a finger. “Not finished yet.”

_ You’ve got to be kidding me. _

Though, if that was the only thing keeping Dagur from blowing up, Viggo supposed he would just do his best to go with it. He went and sat down across from Dagur, trying to ignore the man under the table and the obscene sounds coming from him as he took Dagur in and out of his throat. 

“Dagur, I’m here to-”

“You want one?”

“Excuse me?” Viggo was taken aback for having been interrupted.

“Can get you one for now if ya want,” Dagur said, opening his eyes and gesturing between his legs. He moaned a little. “Man, woman, whatever.”

Viggo didn’t usually mind people being open about sexuality, but there was a time for it, and now wasn’t the time. 

“I’m fine, thank you. I don’t like distractions while discussing things of import.”

“Yeah? Well, sometimes they’re the only things keeping me together.”

Viggo tried to ignore all of this, folded his hands in front of him on the table.

“I’m here to suggest that we reforge our alliance.”

Dagur was drinking again, and he moaned into the bottle. Viggo gritted his teeth, let out a sharp, annoyed huff through his nose. This was going to take much longer than he’d expected if he couldn’t somehow keep Dagur’s focus on him.

“Why?”

“ _ Why? _ ” Viggo was definitely having difficulty keeping any anger and frustration in check and trying to be patient. “Because we have a common enemy who just-”

“ _ Fuck. _ ”

Viggo growled low in his throat. Was Dagur so torn up over losing Hiccup that he was incapable of taking things seriously? He knew Dagur was obsessed with him, and he couldn’t exactly blame him, (Hiccup  _ was  _ a fascinating and intriguing person), but didn’t he realize that if he just got his act together he’d be able to get him back sooner?

Viggo tried again. “We have a common enemy who just defeat-”

“ _ Agh… _ ”

Viggo’s patience ran out. He abruptly stood, tore the bottle from Dagur’s hand, and smashed it onto the ground. Dagur was too drunk to have a normal reaction time, so he wasn’t looking at him in absolute shock until he’d grabbed ahold of one end of the table and flipped it. Without speaking, Viggo took the thrall by the hair, dragged him off of Dagur, and tossed him aside.

“Get out,” he ordered.

The thrall asked no questions, and just hurried out of the tent.

“Hey!” Dagur tried standing, but his legs wobbled and he fell back into his chair. If Viggo had had it in him to care about people he would have felt pity for him. He looked absolutely pathetic. “I washn’t finished yet!”

“But I’m  _ speaking  _ to you.” Now sure of how to get his attention, Viggo leaned over Dagur and stuck one hand between his legs to grab at his cock.

_ So this is what Hiccup’s had in him other than me _ , Viggo couldn’t help thinking. 

Dagur got a confused look on his face, blinked his red-rimmed eyes, then looked down.

“Um, that’s not yours…” Apparently he was too drunk to really know what to do.

Viggo drew the dagger he had sheathed at his belt, held the blade against the base of Dagur’s length. He was going flaccid in his hand, but that didn’t matter.

Dagur’s eyes widened in horror at the sharp object being held to his genitals, then looked up at Viggo. He just smirked at him.

“It could be,” Viggo told him simply. “Just one quick cut and it’ll be severed.” He leaned closer to intimidate Dagur more, his nose almost touching his, and Dagur pushed himself back against the chair. Viggo could ignore the smell of alcohol on Dagur’s breath for the sake of intimidation. He was enjoying the look of genuine terror in Dagur’s eyes. He lowered his voice, brought his mouth close to his ear. “Or maybe I should do it slowly. Make you suffer.”

“G-guards!” Dagur shouted.

Viggo laughed. “Oh, pity about that. Seems for some reason that you didn’t bother posting any outside.”

“Wh-what do you want?”

“I already told you, but you were too focused on that new whore of yours to listen.” Satisfied that he’d now gotten Dagur’s undivided attention, Viggo drew his weapon away and sheathed it, let go of Dagur and backed away. He wiped the hand that he’d held Dagur with on his clothing. “Now put your cock away and act like a proper chief for a little while.” He turned his back to allow Dagur to do that, heard him frantically fixing his clothes and buckling his belt. Viggo couldn’t help smiling to himself at managing to spark fear into him. That was a difficult thing to do with Dagur, especially since the man knew he was frightening to others. Not to Viggo, of course, and certainly not right now.

Once Viggo assumed that Dagur must be decent, he turned back and sat across from him, ignoring the table that was upended nearby. He sat straight, folding his hands in his lap. Dagur was smoothing down his tunic, and he cleared his throat, face a little flushed, probably mortified by the whole ordeal. If it was possible to sober up in under a minute, it looked like he had. His eyes were on him now, alert, and his expression was serious.

Viggo began speaking, not expecting any apologies from him about his behavior. Dagur wasn’t one to give apologies, never mind actually feel remorse.

“So, what I came here for,” Viggo began. “I would like to reforge our alliance. We’ve worked well together in the past, and I don’t see why it shouldn’t continue in the future.”

Dagur squinted. “That’s-not your only reason.”

_ Still perceptive even when drunk. Impressive. _

“No, it isn’t,” Viggo admitted. “I have no reason to lie to you, I suppose. A few weeks back I took quite a defeat at the hands of Berk and your sister. They’re our mutual enemies. It would be much more beneficial for the both of us if we could work together to crush them instead of taking turns with them and waiting to see who gets worn down first.”

Dagur lifted a hand. “Okay, okay, back up a little. I don’t wanna  _ crush  _ Heather. Berk, fine. Could use some revenge killing with them. But Heather? No.”

“Alright. I suppose we’ll have to lay out our goals then,” Viggo said. “I’m hoping they’re similar enough.”

“Destroy Berk for takin’ Hiccup.” Though Dagur now looked more serious, it of course hadn’t taken the drunken slur from his words. “I get him back by my side where he’s shupposed to be. And for Heather, I don’t know. Go up against her, I guess. But don’ kill her. Want her with me too.”

Viggo looked him over. “Didn’t she stab you and help in taking Hiccup from you?” Viggo could see the appeal of having someone like Heather by your side to rule, but she was too dangerous. Unless she were to be subdued in some way of course. Viggo was good at breaking people’s minds and shaping them to his liking. Perhaps if he captured her, had some time with her...

“Uh huh. Iss complicated.” Dagur glanced at the ground with a frown, looking conflicted. “Involves a baby.”

It didn’t take Viggo too long to piece it all together. Dagur was a careless person that didn’t think about the destruction he left in his wake… or the life-giving that could come from it. Viggo wondered just how many bastard children he had running around that he was unaware of. Granted, he himself probably had a few. His talent for seduction worked on both women and men, and if someone was willing to come to his bed and indulge him, who was he to deny them? He couldn’t see any of Dagur’s potential children being conceived of anything but rape though, save for this one. Ryker had described the relationship as a mutual one. 

“Should I congratulate you on being a father or are you upset about it?”

Dagur gave him a sharp look. “I never said it was mine.”

“Oh, no need. It was quite obvious.” Viggo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Wha-?  _ How? _ ” Dagur questioned, baffled.

“Ryker may be an idiot when it comes to most things, but he isn’t one all the time,” Viggo explained. “You both were on his ship. He figured it out. It’s quite simple to piece together. Heather’s pregnant, and you’re the one who got her with child.”

“Fine. It’s mine,” Dagur admitted. His next words were glum. “Yippee. I’m a dad. Bitch told me that righ’ before she stabbed me.” He rubbed at the spot he’d gestured to earlier while talking about it. It clearly wasn’t fully healed yet.

“Then I promise that no harm will come to her.”

“Good. If it does then-”

“You’ll flay me alive? Rip out my teeth and make a necklace out of them?” Viggo waved a hand dismissively. “Yes, yes, I know what horrible things you would like to do to me if that happens.”

Dagur nodded a little, slouched in his chair, looking to be much more at ease. Or maybe he was just pretending that he was. 

“And what do-you want outta this?” Dagur inquired.

“Berk gone,” Viggo answered. “They’ve grown from merely a thorn in my side to an entire sword, and must be put down. We both want the same thing there.” Now it was time for Viggo to lie about the rest of his goals. There was no chance of Dagur picking up on it though. The Berserker Chief wouldn’t be able to pick up on his lies even while sober. “As for Heather, I’ll allow you to sort her out. I’ll help you defeat her and her forces, but I will not bring harm to her.”

“What about Hiccup?” Dagur asked, narrowing his eyes in hostility.

“I was getting to that.” Viggo had more lies waiting on his tongue. “I’ll help you get him back. Once Berk is gone, he’s all yours. I would never dream of taking your property.”

Dagur drew his head back a little, furrowed his brow. “’Cept for the time you tried ta buy ’im.”

“That was attempted purchase,” Viggo said, straightening. “Not taking.” He shrugged. “And besides, I’ve lost interest. He is of no use to me.”

“Excellent.”

“So do we have a deal then?”

Dagur seemed to be thinking, and then he nodded slowly, seriously. “Deal. As long as you help me with one thing.”

“What might that be?” Viggo was hoping this request of Dagur’s wouldn’t be too drastic.

“You help me take back Berzerk.”

  
  


**January 21**

Hiccup had started dating his journal entries to help him keep track of the days. He didn’t want to lose his sense of time again, not like when he’d been with Dagur. 

**14 days since my rescue.**

He’d been keeping track of how many days he’d been… free from Dagur as well. He couldn’t believe it had only been two weeks. It felt so much longer, like his life had changed so much in such a short time, and he was still struggling to see that it was for the better. He still had that sickening part of himself that craved Dagur, that couldn’t sleep at night because he was without him. 

**Astrid’s had to tie me up four times in the past two days. I don’t even know if it’s helping or not, if it’s helping me come back from it at all. I still lose myself. I still get those urges. I want it to stop, but if it can’t stop I want to fulfill them. I know I can’t do that though. Dagur would win if I did. That other me would win. But it hurts and I want it and it’s driving me crazy to not have it.**

14 days since Hiccup’s rescue had also meant 14 days without sex. Before his captivity, something of the sort hadn’t really been a problem, especially since he would occasionally take care of things on his own. Hiccup could do that now if he really wanted, but then he would have a problem of never stopping, and, quite frankly, he didn’t want to live with his hand stuck down his pants. 

He felt like each day it just grew worse. His nightmares were fading, trading themselves in for dreams of sex, sex, and more sex. He just couldn’t hope to get his mind off of it. It wasn’t even just Dagur in his dreams. It was Astrid, Viggo, every one of his friends, all of them taking turns with him, pleasuring him by using his body or letting him use theirs. He’d wake covered in sweat with lust raging through his veins and have no choice but to send Toothless to get Astrid, and in the time he waited for her to come save him from himself, he’d fight that urge, clutch tight at his blankets and groan and shake. Then he would be tied up, and he was free to let that other him consume him for a while, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to get away with anything. That other him would talk, beg, cry, scream. He’d try anything to get what he -  _ they  _ \- wanted, would tug on the ropes until their wrists were left bleeding. 

Thinking of that, Hiccup stopped, rolled up the sleeve on his right arm to look. His wrist had a ring of scabs around it, scabs that would just break come tomorrow… or maybe even that night. The cuts he’d given himself on his forearm were healing. Astrid had asked about them, and he’d explained as best as he could. She was glad that Snotlout and Tuffnut had already taken any sharp objects away from him. No one else had seen the wounds, not even Gothi when she had checked on his hips a few days ago. She’d just had him lift his shirt and let her undo the bandages and look, and he’d sat there trying his best to just  _ breathe _ . And Gothi was coming again today. His father had told him that this morning, and he’d been restless the whole day because of it. Now it was nearing dinner and she had yet to show up. Hiccup hoped that maybe she’d forgotten or been too busy with something else. His hips were most definitely getting better, but he didn’t want anyone looking at him. He knew she’d already seen him, seen him  _ naked _ , but it didn’t matter. The whole thing just made him too uncomfortable.

He went back to writing, letting his sleeve fall back into place to cover his arm.

**I want to walk again. I want to get out of this bed and do something. I want to fly Toothless. He’s getting restless and I feel bad that there’s not much I can do for him. I’m glad he’s here though. I wouldn’t have returned if not for him.**

Toothless wasn’t here at this very moment though. Astrid had taken him out on a flight to make up for having to lock him outside. Hiccup knew his dragon was hopelessly confused about being put outside when Hiccup was clearly in distress, but there was no possible way to explain it to him. Toothless would just get in the way of what Astrid had to do to help him in those moments. He wouldn’t understand why Hiccup had to be tied up, and would try to defend him instead.

Hiccup was going to write more, but there was a knock on his door.

“Son! It’s me and Gothi!”

_ Gods be damned.  _ So Gothi hadn’t forgotten.

“Come in!”

Hiccup put his writing on his desk. The surface had become a mess of things: books, loose paper, charcoal everywhere, some candles burned to stubs. He could still see what he’d written about his captivity though, sticking out of one of the books. He wasn’t quite sure why he was keeping that, but he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of it, couldn’t bring himself to get rid of any of his writing.

Hiccup was sitting on the side of the bed when Stoick and Gothi joined him in the loft. Gothi had paper with her, so apparently she was writing to communicate with him. Gobber must have been busy elsewhere.

“Hey, dad,” Hiccup greeted. “Gothi.” He nodded his head towards her. He didn’t want this, but there was no reason to not be civil about it. They weren’t going to hurt him.

“How are you, Hiccup?” Stoick asked gently. He’d been gentle about everything with him lately, and it was odd. Hiccup wasn’t used to it, wasn’t used to his father being delicate and treating him like he would break if handled incorrectly. Then again, it was quite possible that he would.

Hiccup shrugged. “No different from this morning.” Stoick didn’t know what had been happening with Astrid, so Hiccup wasn’t going to mention that he’d fought himself and been tied up since the last he’d seen him. As far as his father was concerned, most of his days were uneventful.

“That’s good. So, um, Gothi wants you to take your shirt off this time.”

Hiccup looked to Gothi, chest tightening. “Why?”

“She told me she wants to check on your brand,” Stoick explained. “See how that’s healing up.”

Hiccup put a hand to his chest. “Wait. It’s not fully healed?”

Gothi shook her head. She balanced her staff in the crook of one arm, then held up six fingers. Six of what though?

“Apparently it takes six to twelve months for a brand to fully heal,” Stoick said. “So no, yours wouldn’t be healed yet.”

_ Fuck. _

“Um… But it doesn’t hurt. Hasn’t in a long time.” Hiccup fisted his hands at his sides.

Stoick looked like he was resisting the urge to rub at his face. “Please, Hiccup.”

Hiccup knew that there would be no point arguing, that no matter what he did this would end with him baring the upper half of his body. That also meant the scabs on his wrists and his forearm. 

“Okay. Fine.” He drew a deep breath before doing it, then put his shirt down next to him and didn’t look at anyone, head turned to the side.

Hiccup flinched as Gothi suddenly grabbed his hands, reared back to kick her, but Stoick acted quickly, put a hand on his knee to put his foot back down and keep him from doing that.

“Hiccup, be still.”

He was trembling now, chest aching, breaths rushing and heart pounding. He inhaled sharply through his nose, hardened his features, pretending that those weren’t tears he felt forming in his eyes. Gothi was turning his arms over, peering at his wrists, then the cuts on his forearm. Stoick was looking at them too, and Hiccup’s skin crawled. It was bad enough that he was exposed, but it was worse to be studied like this while being restrained. He wanted to scream, but kept it all inside. It helped a little when Stoick removed his hand from him, realizing that he wasn’t going to lash out now.

“Hiccup, what are you doing to yourself?” Stoick asked carefully. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s, um… I-I’ll tell you later.” Hiccup gave him a pointed look. Later meant without Gothi around.

Gothi gave Hiccup a disapproving glance, but then let go of his hands and let him lower his arms. She leaned in to look at his brand, and he squeezed his eyes shut, chest heaving.

_ Don’t touch me, don’t touch me.  _ Terror rushed through his veins. He was too vulnerable, too exposed, too weak, and he was going to be taken advantage of in this state.

A thin finger poked at Hiccup’s brand and he gasped and flinched. Stoick’s hand landed on his shoulder. It was warm, large, and the farthest thing from comforting even though that’s what it was meant to be. Hiccup let him keep it there, not wanting to protest to touching in front of Gothi. He’d probably just look pathetic.

“It’s alright, Hiccup. We’re not going to hurt you.” Stoick sat down on the bed beside him, and Hiccup felt trapped. 

Hiccup tried to hold in a whimper as Gothi traced her finger over his brand, but it came out anyway. It didn’t matter if he looked pathetic; he certainly felt that way.

“I thought you said it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“I-it doesn’t,” Hiccup panted out. He could breathe a little easier when Gothi’s hand left him. It wasn’t long before she was touching him again though, unraveling the bandages from around his hips. Once they were bare, he could feel her eyes on him there, and then her hands followed. Her touch hurt a little, but even without the pain he would have been trying his best not to cry. He opened his eyes, looked down to track her movements and to see what his injuries looked like. His hips were a greenish-yellow under her bony hands, and any clear shape the bruises had taken before was now gone from him. It didn’t change the fact that he knew exactly where Dagur had rested his fingers though, that the shape of his hands was marked into him forever. He felt like his bones were probably black with Dagur’s handprints. 

Gothi abruptly pulled away from him and Hiccup’s eyes flew open as he heard the door down below flung open. He tensed, not sure of who had entered. He made to crawl back on his bed but couldn’t. His hips were improving, but they still didn’t allow a lot of moment. 

Footsteps on the stairs. There was no time to put on his shirt, so he just grabbed at it and brought it up to cover his chest. Stoick had stood, put his hands on his hips.

“Spitelout, what the Hel are you doing here?”

Hiccup swallowed hard, managed to get his foot on his bed and shift himself back a little. Now Spitelout was at the top of the stairs, looking around. He’d never been in here before, and he’d never seen Hiccup like this. Spitelout was one of the last people Hiccup wanted to be seeing him like this.

“Was told you were with Hiccup,” Spitelout answered, seeming unfazed by Stoick’s barely restrained anger. “Thought I’d come and see how he was doing.”

Hiccup didn’t know what to say, just looked at him wide-eyed, making sure he kept his shirt clutched to his chest to cover his scars. Spitelout looked at him now, snorted.

“What are you doing covering yourself like you’re a woman?”

“Spitelout, get out of here,” Stoick said firmly, pointing. “You didn’t ask to come in and certainly weren’t invited to.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Spitelout strode right on past him, towards Hiccup’s bed, and Hiccup wanted to run, scream, but he just cowered silently on the bed. “How ya doing, boyo?”

“G-get out,” Hiccup stammered.

Spitelout moved quickly, and not for the door. Hiccup’s shirt was ripped from his hands, his torso bared, and Hiccup shouted, reached out desperately for it, but Spitelout was holding it out of his reach. He’d frozen now, was just looking at him in horror.

“Good gods above, what is  _ that? _ ” Spitelout exclaimed, pointing at Hiccup’s chest. Hiccup’s hands flew up to cover his brand.

“Something you weren’t supposed to see!” Stoick tore the shirt from Spitelout’s hands and handed it back to Hiccup. He frantically put it back on, his stomach sucking in on itself, like the mortification and shame he was feeling was going to eat him whole. Being fully clothed again helped, but not quite. It didn’t matter really. Spitelout had seen it.

“No wonder you lot won’t tell anyone what Dagur did to him.” Spitelout was facing Stoick now. Hiccup didn’t understand why he couldn’t just  _ go _ . “He  _ owns _ him.”

“Spitelout, do we have to discuss this in front of Hiccup?”

“Well I certainly don’t want you discussing it behind my back!” Hiccup cried. He didn’t want it to be talked about, but if it was going to, he’d feel better with it in his presence. He’d be able to know what was said that way. “How about you don’t discuss it at all?!”

Spitelout entirely ignored him. “What’s he own him for, Stoick?”

“Nothing that matters to you.”

“Oh, I think it does. I think this should matter to the entire tribe.” Spitelout’s voice was rising now. “They don’t have an heir anymore and they don’t even know it.”

“Hiccup can still be heir as long as no one finds out,” Stoick argued. “He can still be chief.”

“You think that trembling wreck’s going to make a good chief?!” Spitelout demanded, gesturing to Hiccup, who glared at him, taking offense at the comment. Though… Maybe he was right. Hiccup hadn’t thought on it much, but how was he going to possibly be chief after going through all of this.

“He needs time to recover! Anyone would after what he’s been through!”

“And what  _ has  _ he been through?” Spitelout planted his hands on his hips, leaned towards Stoick. Hiccup was panicking, breathing so fast he couldn’t breathe. One of his attacks was coming on.

_ Don’t tell him, don’t tell him. _

Stoick ground his teeth down, didn’t answer, and Spitelout kept pressing him.

“Huh? What’d he go through being that maniac’s slave? Hiccup’s not even useful as a slave! Doesn’t have the muscle to do hard labor, is too stubborn for his own good. What? Did he have him doing women’s work or something and he cried about washing a few dishes because you raised him to be a spoiled brat?”

Spitelout’s words were spikes being driven into Hiccup’s already aching chest. He wiped at the tears streaming down his face with shaking hands, unable to keep them in. There was a sobbing sound, and it took him a moment to realize that it came from him. Even as panic and shame were tearing him apart from both sides, anger rose up,  _ fury _ . How  _ dare  _ Spitelout degrade his captivity like that and make it seem like nothing? He had no idea what he’d gone through! He didn’t have the right to be saying any of this!

Stoick, apparently, fully agreed with him. He stepped forward, and slapped Spitelout hard across the face, shocking him into silence.

“If you talk about my son like that again I’ll do worse than slap you.”

Spitelout rubbed at his face, looking stunned. Only now did he seem to understand the gravity of what had truly happened. He was looking at Hiccup again, though his scars were now hidden.

“What did he  _ do  _ to you?”

It all wanted to flood out of Hiccup’s mouth in pained and angered shouts.  _ He tore me to pieces! He raped me over and over! He drugged me, he beat me, he cut me open, he whipped me, he broke my bones, he made me his! _

None of that came from him when he opened his mouth though. None of it could, not with the way the images of those things happening to him, the memories, were flashing through his mind.

Hiccup started screaming.


	97. Chapter 96

There was shouting all around him, but Hiccup didn’t know if it was at him or not. He curled in on himself, trying to make himself as small as could be. He covered his ears, wanting the shouting to stop, and his own screaming to as well, but he couldn’t stop his voice from bursting out of his throat.

He felt Dagur’s hands prying at his wrists, trying to pull his hands from his ears, but he couldn’t see him through his sheen of tears. Besides, Dagur wasn’t really there. He knew that, but that didn’t change the fact that it felt like he was. It was like his mind was in two places at once, a piece reliving his memories, staying with Dagur, and a piece here in the present, witnessing the shouting match between his father and Spitelout. There was too much going on and it was all too loud and chaotic. He knew his screaming was adding on to that, but he didn’t know how to get out what he was feeling.

“Stop!” he yelled desperately, shaking his head. “Stop, stop, _sto-op!_ ”

It appeared that no one listened to him save for Gothi. She gave him a sympathetic look, and then, without warning, was smacking Spitelout over the head with her staff. He went silent, turned to her, appearing shocked, and then she hit him again, this time across the face. Hiccup felt a little relieved at that, was able to let his screams die down into sobs and remove his hands from his ears. He sat with his right knee pulled up, trembling. Dagur’s hands ran over his body and his teeth tugged on his ear.

 _“Sh, baby. It’s okay.”_ Dagur’s hand moved through his hair in an attempt at a soothing gesture. _“It’s all okay.”_

_No it’s not. It’s not._

“Um, so, I’ll just go then,” Spitelout said quietly, seeming stunned by what he’d just witnessed. He turned, but Stoick took him firmly by the shoulder.

“You aren’t going anywhere until I’ve had a talk with you.”

Gothi crossed her arms, looked at Stoick, then nodded her head towards Hiccup, who still couldn’t seem to stop himself from crying or really figure out how to breathe properly. Dagur was still in his mind, stroking his hair.

“Wait downstairs,” Stoick commanded. “And don’t touch anything. If I hear that door open, I’m coming after you.”

Spitelout looked more subdued in his stance now. “Yes, chief.” Without another word, he went down the stairs.

Stoick turned back to Hiccup, looking devastated. He seemed to forget himself, and took him gently by the shoulders.

“Don’t touch me!” Hiccup spat, flinging his arms out at him in hopes that he’d land a strike on him. Stoick was drawing back before he could.

“Hiccup, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know he was going to come in here. I didn’t know he’d see.” Stoick seemed frantic, unsure of what to say, what would calm him down. Hiccup wasn’t quite sure either. He just wanted to cry until he couldn’t anymore, until the release of tears numbed the pain inside of him.

“N-not your fault,” he managed to get out. “Th-thank you,” he directed at Gothi. She’d been the one to calm down the room, to hit Spitelout. Hiccup couldn’t blame her for that. She’d hit people for less, and Hiccup wanted to hit him now too. He could hear him pacing around on the bottom floor, and it made him uncomfortable. He just wanted him to leave.

“Okay, back to what we were originally trying to do,” Stoick said. He looked to Gothi, then lowered his voice so Spitelout couldn’t hear. “How are his hips? Still one week in bed?”

Gothi nodded, and for some reason, Hiccup sobbed harder at that. He wanted to walk _now_. He wanted his prosthetic. He was tired of feeling like he was being imprisoned, tired of being stuck and relying on other people to take care of him. At the moment, he just wanted to run away and hide in the woods, lay down in the snow and wait till he froze to death. At least then he wouldn’t feel anything.

“Hiccup, sh, it’s alright.” Stoick held out a hand towards him, but didn’t touch him. “It’s for the best.”

Hiccup just shook his head. He tried speaking, but the only thing that came out of his constricting throat was a squeak. He was feeling lightheaded.

“Do you want Gothi to give you something to calm down?”

Hiccup didn’t know how to answer that. He was still afraid of ingesting anything that would do something to him, that would alter his mind in any way, but he was desperate to be free from all these rushing thoughts and the way Dagur was touching him. He nodded.

Hiccup was too out of it to really taste the leaves Gothi made him eat. They kicked in rather quickly. He was able to stop crying and shaking, and Dagur’s hands vanished. He wiped his face on his sleeve, looked down below to where Spitelout was.

“Don’t worry, Hiccup. I’ll take care of that. Just rest now, okay?”

“Yeah,” Hiccup agreed hoarsely. Gothi was holding the bandages for his hips, so Hiccup lifted up his shirt, let her put them back on him. If not for the way he was hurriedly calming down and growing drowsy, he would have been bristling.

Once the bandages were back on, he was laying back in bed, and Stoick actually pulled the blankets over him. Hiccup smiled a little at that.

“Dad, I’m eighteen. You don’t have tuck me in.”

“Ah, just take it for now, son.”

Hiccup smiled wider, closed his eyes, and drifted off into sleep.

 

Stoick didn’t say a word to Spitelout until he’d dragged him into his hut. This was a conversation that had to be had in private, that he couldn’t risk anyone overhearing. Fury burned in his blood. He couldn’t believe the nerve of this man, thinking he had the right to know what Hiccup had gone through, what he looked like now. He wanted to punch his teeth in for taking Hiccup’s shirt from him and seeing his brand without his permission. He wanted to do much worse for the way he’d made him scream. He couldn’t though. Spitelout was his half-brother, and a member of his tribe. He’d be no better than Dagur if he started mistreating his own people. There were no laws that Spitelout had broken. He’d just upset everyone and barged into a situation that hadn’t been his to be in.

“Spitelout, you can’t tell a single soul what you saw.”

“Why not?” Spitelout stubbornly folded his arms. “I think the people of Berk deserve to know that they don’t have an heir. What’s going to happen when you die, hm? He can’t be in charge. Even if he wasn’t branded, look at what a mess he is. You’re telling me you still want him to rule?”

“I do,” Stoick responded. “He’s just not ready yet. He’s only been free for two weeks. It’s going to take a lot longer than that to recover.” _And you could have just set him back in that process._ Everyone had been being careful around Hiccup, not really touching him unless he allowed it, following his every request unless it was harmful to himself. He had to relearn that it was okay to feel, to ask for things, to say no. He had to relearn that he had boundaries, and then Spitelout had walked in and broken all of them. Who knew what Hiccup would be like when he woke up? Would he be the same as he had been upon first arriving at Dragon’s Edge? Would he only be pushed back a little? Stoick prayed to the gods that he’d be the same, that this wouldn’t damage his recovery, but there was a very slim chance of that.

“Doesn’t matter what you want,” Spitelout said forcefully. “It’s the law and you know it. He’s property. He’s nobody. He can’t be chief.”

“Call Hiccup nobody one more time and you’ll be mucking out every single dragon stall for three months.”

Spitelout ignored the threat and went on. “What happens if I start telling people?” He pointed towards the door. “What do you think the rest of them will do once they find out that their heir’s a fake? That he’s the property of Dagur the Deranged? It’s illegal, Stoick. Do you think they’ll be content that you’re breaking the law?”

“You can’t _tell_ anyone,” Stoick intoned, trying his best to make it sound like an order, but that part would probably go right over Spitelout’s thick head. “It’s in a place where he can hide it. He can still be chief. No one ever has to know.”

“Or, someone else could be chief, someone much more capable.”

Stoick ground his teeth together. As far as he was concerned, there was no one more capable than Hiccup. He was broken for the moment, but he hopefully wouldn’t be broken forever. He couldn’t see anyone else doing the job. He just _couldn’t._

“And who would be more capable, in your opinion?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Spitelout put his hands on his hips. “The line should fall to the Jorgenson's. It’s the only logical decision.”

“Oh, what? So you can take over after me? And then Snotlout?”

“Why exactly would that be a problem?” Spitelout narrowed his eyes.

“Because _Hiccup_ is next in line!” Stoick roared, unable to keep his calm. “I don’t give a damn what that brand means! Dagur took him illegally!”

“It doesn’t matter now!” Spitelout yelled right back. “It’s on him and it’s on him for good! And if the rest of the tribe finds out about it-”

“They won’t!” Stoick moved before he even really thought about it, crushing Spitelout against the wall, holding a hand to his throat, his other hand raised in a fist. “You will stay silent! I am your chief and you are to listen to me until such a time as I am not! And then you will listen to Hiccup if you’re still around for that!”

Spitelout drew his head back, blinked in shock. “Yes, Stoick.”

“And if I hear that you told anyone I’ll have you banished from the archipelago. Is that clear?”

“Yes.”

“Now get the Hel out of my sight and don’t cause anymore trouble.” Stoick let go of him, stepped away, and Spitelout left his hut, looking subdued. He only hoped that it was real, that he really wasn’t going to tell anyone about Hiccup’s brand, that he wouldn’t try to undermine him like that.

Stoick sat down heavily, rubbed a hand over his face. Stress knotted the muscles in his shoulders. Something Spitelout had said was going over and over again in his mind.

_“It’s on him for good.”_

_For good._

Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe the brand could be removed somehow.

Stoick quickly got those thoughts out of his head. That would mean holding Hiccup down, or tying him down, _hurting_ him, and gods, he couldn’t hurt his son like that just to secure him his place as chief. Everything would just take more time. Hiccup hadn’t been home for very long. He was almost fully recovered physically, but mentally would take a very long time. And even then, Stoick knew that he would never be the same.

 

“He saw,” Hiccup told Snotlout. “He saw my brand.” It was the day after the incident with Spitelout. Stoick had assured him that he’d talked to him and that he wouldn’t say anything, but Hiccup still wasn’t so sure. He didn’t trust Spitelout. He didn’t trust most people, but Spitelout hadn’t even been trustworthy to begin with.  Though, one good thing that came out of the drama with Spitelout was that Stoick hadn’t asked him about the cuts on his arm, having forgotten to do so. “Did he… say anything to you about it?”

“He asked if I knew what scars you had,” Snotlout began, “and I told him no. Figured that he was asking out of his own curiosity. Didn’t realize that he’d actually seen.” Snotlout looked forlornly down at the floor, clasped his hands in front of him. “Hiccup, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s…” He was going to say that it was okay, but it wasn’t. They both knew it wasn’t. “It’s not okay. If he tells anyone…”

“Look, Stoick already said that he wouldn’t,” Snotlout told him. “And I’ll make sure of it too, alright? Your secret is safe with me, which also means that there’s no way it’s coming out of his huge mouth.”

Hiccup smiled a little, but it was weak. “Thank you, Snotlout.” He felt more wary than he had before. He’d begun learning that he had boundaries, that it was okay for him to show his feelings and for him to say no, but Spitelout had blundered in and crushed everything. His boundaries hadn’t mattered to him, just like they hadn’t mattered to Dagur, or Viggo. He knew they mattered to his father and the rest of his friends. Or, he hoped that was true. It seemed to be true. Snotlout hadn’t touched him at all that day, had been carefully handling his feelings. Maybe it just depended on who the person was. Not everyone acted the same. Not everyone was the same as Dagur or Viggo or Spitelout. But, sadly, not everyone was like his friends either. Not everyone cared. How was he supposed to deal with that? How was he supposed to deal with anything?

Hiccup scratched at the healing wounds on his right arm, though he knew he probably shouldn’t be doing that. The scabs could break. Speaking of scabs, the ones on his wrists had broken that morning and reformed anew with not-Hiccup’s pulling at the ropes. There’d been no difference that time. Not-Hiccup had still cried and begged, had still tried to get his way, and had still failed. It hadn’t been shorter or longer, and the lust hadn’t lessened at all. He’d be facing it again that day he knew. Maybe two more times. He hated it, wanted it to stop, but it just seemed like an endless cycle.

“So, how have you been feeling?” Snotlout asked. “Any better? You’re only gonna be in bed for another week, right?”

“Yeah,” Hiccup answered. “Can’t wait. I’m dying to get out of bed.”

“I bet. You must miss your prosthetic a lot.”

Hiccup tapped at his left leg, nodded. “Miss walking around.” He pursed his lips. “Feels like I’m being imprisoned again.”

“You know you’re not, right?”

“That I’m not what?”

“That you’re not actually being imprisoned,” Snotlout said, scooting his chair forward a little. “You’re free to do what you want.”

Hiccup snorted. “Mm-hm. So I can walk around right now? Drink a whole fucking bottle of wine? Jer-” He cut himself off. Snotlout didn’t know about his sex addiction, didn’t know how he was being restrained from having sex. He didn’t have to mention that.

“What was that last one?” Snotlout tilted his head.

“Nothing.” Hiccup waved his hand. “But yeah, sure. I can do whatever I want.”

Snotlout sighed. “Hiccup, you’re allowed to do whatever you want within reason. None of that is within reason.”

Hiccup sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He didn’t want to admit that those weren’t within reason though, wanted to just drink himself into unconsciousness. No one was allowed to bring him alcohol though. He’d just have to wait till he could walk to search some out. “So… what do I do when I can walk again?”

“Well, what do you want to do?”

Hiccup looked over at Toothless, who was sleeping peacefully on his stone. His new saddle and tail fin were in the corner of his room. The tail fin was just plain black leather. Hiccup planned on painting it, but with a different design than he had before. Maybe with something blue.

“I want to fly again.” He looked down at himself. He’d gained his weight back quickly from being home and eating properly, but the muscle he’d had before wasn’t there. “Regain my strength. Train to fight probably.”

Snotlout narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Why fighting?”

 _To kill Dagur._ “Why wouldn’t I have to know how to fight? I mean, I already do, but I shouldn’t just let those skills grow dusty in a corner. We’re Vikings. We fight. It’s an occupational hazard.”

Snotlout snorted in amusement. “We’ve got a lot of occupational hazards, don’t we? Just promise me you won’t go after Dagur. Our job is to keep you as far away from him as possible.”

“I promise.” A lie probably. If Hiccup had the chance to kill Dagur, he’d take it. He didn’t want it to be a shot from up on Toothless. He wanted it to be by a blade he gripped in his hand, wanted to be close enough to have the blood splatter onto him. Hiccup’s thoughts about Dagur had been growing more violent lately, even though he still craved every part of him. The worst time was when he was alone at night save for Toothless, and as he lay there and stared into the dark, Dagur’s scent would fill his nostrils and his skin would practically itch to be touched by him. The feeling was so frustrating it made him want to scream, and he had sometimes, biting down on his pillow so that no one would hear him save for Toothless. And then Toothless would come cuddle with him, and Hiccup would manage to fall asleep with Toothless’ and Dagur’s smells mixing in his nose.

“Good. We care about you, Hiccup, okay?”

Hiccup gave a small smile, nodded. He knew his friends cared about him now, knew that none of that was fake. He still had to fight with himself over feeling worthless, over wondering _why_ they cared about him. Feeling utterly worthless and not at the same time was a conflicting, nearly constant battle in his head. If felt like everything was a battle in his head.

“What else are you going to do, do you think?”

Hiccup shrugged. His mind was going to more serious topics. Spitelout had questioned his legitimacy as heir, and he’d been questioning it himself. What was in his future if he couldn’t be heir to Berk? Why was Stoick so insistent that he was going to be chief? Did he even want it?

“I don’t really know.” Hiccup wished Toothless was awake so he could have his head in his lap for him to pet. The action helped relax him. “I don’t know what I want for myself. Your dad brought up the fact that I can’t be chief…”

“Do you want to be chief?”

Hiccup looked down at his hands, then scratched his chin. “I really don’t know. How can I be with this thing on me?” He tapped at his brand.

“You can hide it.”

“Yeah, but your dad knows. He could use that to blackmail me, undermine me. There are so many things he could do to ruin that for me.” Then Hiccup was thinking of getting rid of it again. It would be painful, and he didn’t really want more pain, but it would be worth it… he hoped. He had this terrible feeling that even with it gone he’d still feel like he’d belong to Dagur. The mark on his body would be gone, but the mark on his memory wouldn’t. There would be a scar there, and he would look down and know that that’s where the brand had been, know that he’d been owned by somebody. Well, two people really. Heather didn’t even know about that. She, Fishlegs, and Ruffnut were the only three of his friends who knew nothing about the brand. He figured he should tell them - maybe even show them - someday, but he didn’t know when. He could never work up the courage to do it on their visits.

Snotlout was silent, and Hiccup grew worried that he’d offended him.

“Sorry. I’m just worried.”

“No, no, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Snotlout straightened, crossed one leg over the other. “My dad’s an asshole. Believe me: I of all people know that. I still can’t help but love him though. It’s weird.”

Hiccup huffed. “You’re talking to the right person about conflicting feelings.”

Snotlout said nothing to that, and they fell into a brief silence. In the silence, Hiccup’s mind decided to play a memory of Dagur laughing as he pinned him down and forced his way into him. He cringed at it, but tried not to make it too noticeable. It was beyond annoying that his mind would do that, that it would pick random memories from his time with Dagur and play them for him at any time of the day or night. He’d try to shut them down, think of something else, but then they’d just continue playing in the background. It was like his mind wanted him to relive his entire captivity again, but completely out of order.

“If you don’t take the mantle of chief, people will know something’s up,” Snotlout told him.

In the memory, Dagur was shoving his head down into the pillow to muffle his wails, his other arm around his lower abdomen to keep him on his knees with his ass raised. He was going at him like it was something he only got a chance to do once a lifetime, not three times a day.

“I know.” The idea of running away suddenly seemed appealing, of just taking Toothless, flying off, and never coming back. There would be no people, none of the problems that came with them. He could be free in a sense, free from responsibility, free from the world.

But then Hiccup thought of all the people he lo- cared about. He couldn’t do that to them, and he couldn’t go without them. Three months without his friends and family had been awful. He couldn’t imagine what a lifetime would be like.

“I need time to think about it,” he surmised. “Now, can we talk about something less serious? Tuffnut do anything weird lately?”

“He’s Tuffnut,” Snotlout said affectionately. There was quite the enamored expression on his face, and it made Hiccup feel happy. “He can’t go five minutes without doing anything weird.”

Hiccup chuckled. “Can’t argue with you there. So, tell me about it.”

“Well, it involved snow, Chicken, Ruffnut, and a catapult…”

 

Ryker looked absolutely miserable, standing on the deck of the ship huddled in a large bearskin. He leaned against the gunwale.

“Why aren’t we leaving yet?” he asked.

“Because Dagur has to pack up camp.” Viggo gestured to the land they were docked at with a gloved hand. It was bitterly cold that day, and the sky was gray with probably no chance of sun. “He’s not going to just leave all his supplies and supporters here. It would be a waste.”

“Great. So we’re gonna be here another week.”

Viggo paced to keep warm. He didn’t know why Ryker was out here anyway, but he’d wanted to speak with him, so he’d humor him.

“He promised me three days. He’ll be on this ship with us.”

Ryker rolled his eyes. “Oh, that’s just fantastic. How I’ve missed him,” he said bitterly. “He has his own fucking ship to sail on.”

“Better to keep an eye on him though, don’t you think?” Viggo’s fur cloak billowed a little as he paced. He couldn’t help admitting to himself that he liked the potential dramatic effect from that. The gold stitching on the lining certainly helped with it. “We don’t know what he could really be up to.”

Ryker huffed in annoyance. “He’s not you. He doesn’t play your games, Viggo. He’s more straightforward. He told you his goals, and that’s what they are, and of course you lied to him.”

“Pfft! You weren’t even there! How do you know I lied?” Viggo stopped in front of him with his hands folded behind him, balanced briefly on the tips of his toes before going back down.

“Because that’s what you do. So, what did you tell him?”

“Fine. I lied,” Viggo admitted. “I told him that we pretty much want the same thing and that he need not worry about me taking Hiccup from him.”

Ryker laughed, shook his head. “Oh, that poor fool for believing you!”

Viggo smirked. “Indeed. He’s much easier to use now that he doesn’t have Hiccup. A pity about that though. I would have liked to have another go at him.”

“You say as if you’re not planning to get another chance.” Ryker straightened off the gunwale. “So, what is it that you really want?”

 

_The hall was dimly lit, just a circle of light around the throne. And Viggo of course. He was the one sitting in it. Berk’s throne. His right foot rested casually on Dagur’s severed head. His body lay somewhere amongst the slain Berkians and Berserkers. The hall was crowded with their bodies, reeking of the scent of blood, the stone floor absolutely drenched with it._

_Viggo let his left hand hang over the armrest of the throne where he pet at his slave’s hair. Hiccup looked up at him, his bangs only partially obscuring his crest branded into the right side of his forehead. There was a chain around his lovely neck that was secured to the throne, and he knelt beautiful and naked before him. His father’s body was amongst the dead, but Hiccup was showing no grief, his face simply passive, maybe even demonstrating a little pleasure at having his attention. Dagur’s crest was gone from his chest and his name from his thigh, both sliced out of him so that Viggo was the only one that had claim over him._

_Heather stood to Viggo’s right, docile, hands folded in front of her, ready to take any of his commands. Her abdomen was swollen with pregnancy. The baby would be born soon, and then he would kill it, erase all evidence of Dagur._

_He reached up his right hand, took ahold of her braid and used it to tug her lips down towards his. They kissed deeply as Viggo still pet Hiccup’s hair. It would be no problem keeping both of them. He would marry Heather and have children by her, and keep Hiccup as his pet. He’d just defeated Berk and the Berserkers. It made him feel like the most powerful man in the north, and maybe he was. Stoick was dead. Dagur was dead. Even Ryker was dead, his body somewhere among the others. Viggo himself had killed him. He didn’t need anyone questioning his reign._

_Once finished with kissing Heather, Viggo was tugging Hiccup’s head up, leaning down to press his lips to his, casually rolling Dagur’s head under his foot. Hiccup moaned into his mouth like the whore he was, and it nearly made Viggo shiver. He couldn’t wait to train him to be just to his liking, to break his mind and body with pleasure and pain, to have him screaming for mercy but begging for him at the same time. Viggo had so many things he wanted to do to him that he didn’t know how he wasn’t getting started already._

_No. He did know. He was reveling in his victory, in the desecration of his enemies, in his beautiful prizes. Perhaps he could revel in his prizes all together instead of one at a time, figure out a way to take both Hiccup and Heather at once. Or maybe he should make them take each other, give him a show of their beautiful bodies intertwining and working to gain and provide pleasure. Viggo would certainly enjoy watching that._

_He was getting ahead of himself though. There was nothing he had to do right now. He wasn’t done taking in his victory: the feeling of it, the sight of it._

_With a smile, Viggo pulled himself from Hiccup and again looked out at the bloodied hall, content to have Dagur’s head under his foot, Heather by his side, and Hiccup naked at his feet. He’d never felt more utterly satisfied in his life._


	98. Chapter 97

**January 23**

**16 days**

**It doesn’t seem like Spitelout’s told anyone about my brand. I know Dad told me that he wouldn’t but I can’t help but worry. Every time I think about it it’s like it burns.**

**I’m letting my friends visit me all together now. Before I could only handle one to two visitors at a time, but now I’m letting myself be surrounded by them. Somehow, they manage to make me laugh and smile. But they can’t make me forget. No one can. Not even Toothless, no matter how hard he tries.**

**It’s weird around them. Sometimes we talk about serious things, wonder about what our enemies could possibly be doing. They ask me how I’m doing too, and I never know whether to be truthful or to lie to them. Usually it ends up being a mix of both.**

**We don’t always talk about serious things though. A lot of the time we just pretend that everything’s normal and that nothing’s changed. I’m not different. They’re not different. Our lives and the world aren’t different. We’re just us. The Dragon Riders. Not a broken, former slave, a run-down and exhausted general-in-the-making, a pregnant chief, a nerve-wracked and sleep-deprived best friend, a much quieter, more serious warrior, a strained comedian with a lump of scars in his right shoulder, or a stressed but thoughtful cousin. We’ve all changed, but sometimes we just pretend we haven’t. We just pretend these past few months haven’t happened. But we can’t always pretend, and reality is always waiting for us.**

 

**January 27**

**20 days since my rescue**

**I hate myself. More than usual. I didn’t tell Astrid and I don’t plan on telling her, but I touched myself yesterday. I couldn’t help it. No one was around. It was the perfect opportunity.**

**It felt so good I wanted to scream, but I just turned my head and bit my pillow instead. I didn’t know it could feel that good after being deprived for so long. It felt like drinking water after going days without a single drop. I’d been parched, and at least for a few hours, I was satisfied.**

**I came once, waited a bit, and then did it all over again. In my head it was Dagur doing it to me, and the second time I came I shouted his name. I was desperate, wanting too much after having nothing, and I tried for a third time, but it hurt and I couldn’t bring myself to do it. My body wouldn’t let me. I guess I deserved to hurt.**

**I cried after. I wanted to cut myself, but I had nothing to do that with. All my suffering instead had to stay inside me.**

**I want to die for being so weak. I want to die but I can’t. I can’t kill myself. I can’t die. I can’t do anything. I’m a failure. I’m terrible. I gave in to my own body, to what Dagur turned it into. I swore to myself that I wouldn’t do it again, but I don’t know how much I can trust myself. I need sex like I need food, and I’m tired of starving.**

 

**January 29**

**22 days without Dagur**

**I’ll hopefully be able to walk today. I’m waiting for Gothi to come and examine me. My hips don’t hurt anymore and I’m feeling restless. I haven’t felt this much energy in a while. It’s still not the same though. I remember having more energy than this before my capture. I remember not getting tired so easily, but now I nap a lot. Maybe it’s because I don’t sleep well at night. Or maybe I’m tired because of the way my memories are tormenting me. I want them to stop, but they won’t let up. I give the impression that I’m okay, that I’m getting better, but on the inside I know I’m going crazy or I am already. I hear Dagur’s voice, feel him, smell him, taste him. Sometimes it’s like I’m back with him all over again. Other times it’s so clearly just a ghost of him. On other occasions it’s Viggo’s voice and touch, but not nearly as frequently as Dagur’s.**

**Maybe I’m tired from fighting not-Hiccup, from being tied up when that’s the last thing I want. I don’t want to be restrained. Someone could hurt me. Someone could violate me. I know it’s ridiculous, but what if one day Astrid just leaves me like that? What if she hurts me? Would she hurt me if she knew what I’d done? I haven’t touched myself since that day, but I want to. I want to so badly. The only thing keeping me from it is the memory of how deeply I hated myself afterwards, of how sharp the shame was as it cut into me. I’ll starve in favor of feeling more hatred towards myself. I already have enough of that.**

**I’m not sure what I want to do first with my supposed freedom once I get my prosthetic back. It sounds so simple, but maybe I should just go for a walk. When was the last time I did that? Sometime back in September, I think. I don’t care that it’s cold and there’s snow on the ground. I’m going to do it. Stretch my legs. It’s such a simple luxury that I didn’t think I’d ever find myself missing.**

**I don’t know when I’ll be able to fly Toothless again. I don’t know if doing it right away is the best idea. I need to build up my strength again and I don’t know if my body’s ready for it. Maybe none of that matters though. I want to fly. I’m not free, but it’ll probably be the most free I’ll ever hope to feel.**

  
  


Hiccup tapped his prosthetic on the floor a few times to make sure that it was on right. Gobber had returned every single one of them to him after getting the go ahead from Gothi, and Hiccup had eagerly attached one to the stump of his leg. He was more than ready to have his mobility back.

Toothless was by his bed, ready to support him when he stood, just like he had the first time Hiccup had ever walked without his left foot. He hoped he’d be able to stand on his own at first, but he doubted it.

For a few moments he just stared down at the floor, feeling unsure about this for some reason. Then he drew a deep breath, and stood. 

He fell almost instantly, but Toothless was there to catch him, and Gobber hurried up to be by his side. Hiccup was glad he was here with him. If anyone understood issues with mobility, it was Gobber.

“Thanks, bud.” Hiccup heaved himself up straight with the help of Toothless, keeping his arm on him. His legs were wobbling. So maybe going on a walk wasn’t the best idea. His muscles had been diminished from lack of use, and he needed to build them back up. He needed to build everything back up. At least he seemed to be back to his normal weight though. His ribs hadn’t been visible for days now, and he’d made himself look in a mirror and had seen that he hadn’t been so gaunt.

Hiccup was frustrated though. He was standing, but only with the help of someone else. He wanted to be standing all on his own, wanted to be back to his full strength with the snap of his fingers. It would help him feel more normal that way, but he wasn’t normal. Nothing was.

“How does it feel?”

“No pain,” Hiccup told Gobber. It felt amazing to say that and have it be the truth. Hiccup couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t felt physical pain. During his captivity, everything had just  _ hurt _ , and for the last few weeks his hips had been tormenting him, but now he was feeling some semblance of physical health. 

He took his arm off Toothless, stood on his own now. He took one shaky step, then another. He felt weak and like he was about to fall, but he ignored Toothless and the arm Gobber held out to him, gritting his teeth. He wanted to do this without help.

“Look, lad, I’m sorry we had to take your prosthetics from you.” Gobber sounded truly remorseful. 

Hiccup looked to him, knees shaking slightly, but he didn’t hold his arms out for anyone, feeling stubborn. “I understand,” Hiccup told him. “You know how I am. Would have tried walking around with fu-” he cleared his throat- “fractured hips.” He’d been about to swear, but he was trying to stop doing that as often. He hadn’t cursed so much before his captivity, and he didn’t really like that change in himself. It was hard to stop though.

Gobber chuckled a little. “Yeah, you would have. Always been a stubborn piece of work. Ever since you were a baby. Tried eating food you had to chew before you even had teeth.”

Hiccup smiled a little, taking another labored step. “How’d that go?”

“You choked. Stoick panicked, but luckily old Gobber was there to fix it!” Gobber patted himself on the chest.

Hiccup managed to take a few more steps, and then he was walking over to his bed, sitting down, his legs aching as if he’d just run a great distance instead of simply pacing across his bedroom.

“It’ll take time,” Gobber told him.

_ Fuck time.  _ Hiccup pushed himself back up, ignored the exhausted shaking in his limbs, and began to make his way over to the wall. Once there, he turned and leaned his back against it, breathing a little heavily with exertion. He wanted to cry. He felt absolutely ridiculous from being tired out from this.

“How are you feeling otherwise?” Gobber questioned.

Hiccup sucked in his lower lip, not quite sure how to respond to that. Should he tell the truth? He felt like he could be more open with Gobber than his dad, but what if he passed on what he told him?

“Can we just keep this between us?” Hiccup asked. “Anything I say right now - I don’t want it leaving this room.”

Gobber folded his arms, nodded curtly. “Understood.”

Hiccup began the steady walk back to his bed, Toothless tracking his movements the whole way just in case he needed him. By the time he got to his bed, Hiccup was practically falling onto it.

“I feel like I’m going crazy, Gobber,” Hiccup told him truthfully. “There are times where, well…” He folded his hands, inhaled deeply. He just stared at the floor, unable to even attempt eye contact while doing this. “I hear his voice. Or I feel him touching me. Or I smell him.” Hiccup wasn’t going to mention that he could sometimes taste Dagur as well, didn’t want Gobber to guess what it was he was tasting, because he would certainly get it right. It most certainly wasn’t just his mouth. 

Gobber came and sat down next to him, and Hiccup had to do his best to not shy away.

“Sometimes it’s like I can see the eyes of the dragon that took my leg,” Gobber said. “Or my arm. Like I can still feel its teeth on me and hear the sounds it made. There are times where I can hear my bone crunching in its mouth.”

Hiccup looked at Gobber now, actually met his gaze. His eyes were genuine and soft.

“What I’m trying to say is that you’re not going crazy,” Gobber told him. “When you go through something traumatic those memories stick with you, haunt you in your everyday life. Sometimes they’re fleeting, and sometimes they’re so strong it’s like you’re back there in that moment. It’s not as crazy as you think.”

“I’m sure my dad would think it was crazy.”

Gobber shook his head. “He experiences it too, you know.”

“He does? About what?” Hiccup was shocked to hear this. How could his own father be tormented by memories? It was an experience that left him feeling weak and just clinging to sanity, and Stoick the Vast wasn’t weak or on the edge of madness like he was.

“A few things. It’s really not my place to say.” Gobber made as if he was going to put his hand on his shoulder, but then put it back down, clearly remembering Hiccup’s issue with being touched. Hiccup appreciated that. “You’re not alone with this, Hiccup, and you’re not losing your mind.”

Hiccup didn’t know how to convince him that he was, didn’t know how to explain his conflicting feelings of hating Dagur but wanting to go back to him. Surely  _ that  _ was madness. He was silent for a time. He wondered if he could discuss other things with Gobber. He knew that he’d had sex with men - consensually of course. Maybe he would understand part of where he was coming from. He didn’t really know how to tell it to other people.

“It wasn’t bad all the time, you know,” Hiccup started. “When he…” He couldn’t say it, didn’t even know what word to use, but he knew Gobber would know what he was talking about. “I get this feeling that everyone thinks it hurt me the whole time, that I fought the whole time, but it wasn’t like that at all. It… felt good.”

“You know that’s not your fault, right, Hiccup?” This was exactly the reason he’d told Gobber. He wouldn’t accuse him of anything, wouldn’t call him weak. He’d just try to understand and help him through it. 

“I’m trying to.” Hiccup looked down at his hands, fiddled with his fingers. “He told me it was my fault. He told me that if it felt good it meant that I liked it.”

He could sense Gobber shaking his head. “That’s not true at all.” A hesitation. Hiccup felt his hand near him. “Is it alright if I-?”

Hiccup nodded before he could finish, and Gobber’s hand went to rest on his shoulder. His skin crawled a little at first and he felt his muscles tightening, but then he was able to relax. The hand wasn’t Dagur’s.

“Hiccup, our bodies react to things in ways we don’t always want them to, and that doesn’t make it your fault, especially when someone takes advantage of those reactions,” Gobber told him. “Sometimes our bodies and minds work separate from each other. You have to remember: your mind is the one that’s always right.”

Now Hiccup was feeling conflicted. He’d been able to make that distinction between body and mind at first, after he got over the feeling of betrayal from his body, but then those physical wants had melded with his mental ones. There had been times where Dagur had gotten his cock inside of him and he’d just melted against him and succumbed to sensation. 

“What if it’s not?” Hiccup asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it, uh, happened so frequently that, well, I felt like  _ I  _ started wanting it to,” Hiccup admitted. “He’d get inside me and I’d just… I wanted it.”  _ I still do _ . That’s what Hiccup wanted more desperately than anything, the desire growing day-by-day. He wanted sex. Real sex. He wanted to be inside someone, or have someone else inside of him. It was confusing. Before all of this he had thought he didn’t like men, but when he’d dream, so much of what he wanted was a thick cock filling him up and taking him. He wasn’t going to say that of course. “And it didn’t help that he wanted me to feel good too. He wasn’t just using me for his own gain. There were times where he would just…” He trailed off, feeling like he couldn’t say the next part, like it was too personal. He didn’t want to make Gobber feel awkward.

“It’s alright, Hiccup. You can tell me.”

Hiccup’s face flushed a little, but he did make himself continue. “He would hold me down and suck me off. He wouldn’t even do anything for himself. When he was like that, he’d just… pleasure me and leave.”

Gobber didn’t say anything, which Hiccup was fine with. He wasn’t quite done yet.

“A-and at first I was confused by it.” He sniffled, wiped at tears that had formed in his eyes. Where had those come from? “But he t-told me he- told me he lo-” That word again. It got stuck in his throat, choking him, and he could hear Dagur in his head saying it to him while assaulting him. He tried again. “That he lov-” He couldn’t do it. Sobs were aching in his throat. He just shook his head. Certainly Gobber knew what he was trying to say now. “M-me,” he finished.

Then he was crying. Dammit, he hated crying. He felt like he’d cried enough for two lifetimes now, never mind just one. It made him feel weak and ridiculous, and almost every single time, there was Dagur’s harsh voice in his head berating him for doing it.

But no. Dagur wasn’t here. He was allowed to do this.

Hiccup found himself leaning into Gobber, who wrapped an arm around him. It was warm and familiar, an embrace he’d felt many times in his life, that he was grateful to be feeling again. Toothless cooed at him, put his head in his lap, and Hiccup put a hand on his head to comfort both his friend and himself. Gobber said nothing, the room silent save for his bawling.

After a time, Hiccup grew silent, but didn’t move away from Gobber or the wet patch he’d created on his shirt. He just tried catching his breath, relaxing. He pet Toothless to help himself with that. Gobber’s scent was in his nose, replacing the lingering taint of Dagur’s.

“You’re not going crazy, Hiccup,” Gobber assured him. “You’re hurting bad, and it’s going to take you time to heal.”

“Thanks for letting me talk about it,” Hiccup said.

“No need to thank me.” He gave him a squeeze, and then Hiccup was lifting himself up and wiping at his face. “You’ve gotta get it out of you somehow.”

Hiccup just nodded, swallowed hard. Toothless had lifted his head to his, so Hiccup rubbed his nose affectionately against his snout, and Toothless let out a reassuring rumble.

“Okay,” he said, releasing Toothless, looking back to Gobber, then at the stretch of wall he planned on reaching. “Let’s try walking again.”


	99. Chapter 98

Hiccup woke as he usually did: sweating, shaking, knots in his stomach, his breaths heaving from nightmares. He didn’t know if he hated being asleep or being awake more. He couldn’t escape the disaster of his own mind, or Dagur, no matter if he was conscious or not. But consciousness brought problems he didn’t have to deal with in his sleep, specifically between his legs.

_ Fuck. _

He didn’t want to deal with this now, didn’t want to deal with this ever. He hoped that he hadn’t woken too early, that he wouldn’t be bothering Astrid when he went to get her. At least he could do that now. Her hut wasn’t a long walk from his, so his legs were able to withstand it despite the weakness caused from lack of use.

_ Or I could just ride Toothless there. _

The idea was tempting - Toothless wouldn’t even need a saddle for it - but it wouldn’t work. It would give him stimulation in the very last place he was supposed to have it.

Hiccup groaned, and suddenly there was a big tongue lapping on his face.

“No, Toothless, not now.” He gently batted him away, sat up, gritting his teeth at the uncomfortable way his pants rubbed against his erection. It felt like it nearly hurt, and he just wanted his clothes  _ off. _ He rubbed at his face. Toothless was looking at him with concern.

“I’ll be okay, Toothless.” He hoped he would be anyway. He didn’t feel like he would be, but he didn’t want to worry his friend.

Hiccup somehow made himself get up, planning on at least making himself look a little presentable before he went outside. He’d slept with his prosthetic on, something he hadn’t done before, but he was feeling paranoid about taking it off. He wanted to change his pants, as they were soaked in sweat, but if he took them off he was done for. Not-Hiccup was bashing at the insides of his skull, and it felt like he sent pieces flying and jabbing into his brain.

Taking off his shirt was a problem though. For a long while after doing it, he just stood there, chest heaving, heat running through his blood. In his mind, hands - Dagur’s - were running over his torso, and Hiccup closed his eyes and sighed in both frustration and contentment. He knew it wasn’t real, but then it felt like there were hands actually on him, gently caressing his abdomen, teasing around his hardening nipples. Then those were being touched, pinched, and Hiccup moaned, tilted his head back, wanting a mouth on him. One of the hands ran down his body, felt at his cock over his pants, and his knees shook.

Hiccup was broken from the trance as Toothless nudged him in the side. He shook his head, blinking, feeling like he was throwing a net off of himself. Then he realized something.  _ He  _ was the one touching himself. He hadn’t been imagining that. He’d been about to give in again. The feelings of hate that had come upon himself after doing it that one time suddenly rushed in at him, and he was moving quickly, donning the new tunic he’d picked out for himself in a hurry. He was glad it covered his groin. He didn’t have far to go, but he didn’t want anything to be obvious.

“Can’t feed you right now, bud.” He grabbed a red, fur-lined cloak from a hook on his wall, swung it around his shoulders and tied it with the laces in the front. “I’ll see if you can spend some time with Fishlegs and Meatlug.” He sat down on his bed, pulled on his boot. Gods, he felt like he was about to lose it. “You like playing with Meatlug, yeah?”

Toothless rumbled at him, clearly noticing the panic in his movements. He came over, and Hiccup gave him a quick scratch on the head. “Come on, Toothless. Let’s go.”

Going up and down stairs was a difficult task for Hiccup, much harder than walking on a flat surface, but he had to do it. Luckily he wouldn’t have to trek through snow. The dragons always cleared it off the walkways after a new snowfall, which happened multiple times a week, given that it was January. Hiccup left with Toothless by his side. It was still dark outside, so it was sometime in the morning, but he couldn’t tell what time. A glance around the Edge showed people up and about though, so he hadn’t woken too early.

Hiccup’s stride was as quick as he could make it as he went to Astrid’s hut. The air was bitter and the wind was blowing, so he pulled his cloak completely around him. At least he wasn’t going to stay out for very long.

He knocked hard and desperately on Astrid’s door once he reached it. Despite the cold, he could feel sweat beading at his temples due to the exertion of fighting this. He bounced on his foot and his prosthetic as he stood waiting for someone to answer.

“Come on, Astrid,” he muttered. “Come on.” He really hoped that she hadn’t gone somewhere else. He knew he wouldn’t be able to make it long enough to search for her.

The door opened, and Hiccup was about to be swelled with relief, but then it faltered. It was Heather. She was in a nightgown with her hair down, and there were dark circles under her eyes. She looked bleary, but her expression grew sharper when she realized it was Hiccup.

“Hiccup, is everything alright?”

“Is Astrid around?”

“She went out for a flight on Stormfly,” Heather answered. “But that was a while ago. She should be back soon. Come wait inside. I’m not gonna just leave you out in the cold.”

Hiccup wanted to deny her, but he went in anyway, followed by Toothless, and Heather closed the door behind them. “Thank you.” It sounded rushed, abrasive, but he didn’t bother trying to fix it or apologize. He went and sat down by the fire, but kept his cloak on, concerned that even with the longer tunic his erection would be obvious. He nearly groaned at how the change in position made his pants rub up against his cock. That felt good, and it gave him the urge to just start humping the nearest thing in sight, clothes or no clothes.

Heather sat down across from him. She frowned and rubbed at her abdomen, which was steadily growing larger as her pregnancy progressed.

“How are you doing?” Hiccup’s words came out hoarsely. He didn’t want to talk, and it was hard to fight through the fog in his mind to make coherent thoughts, but if he didn’t talk Heather would know that something was up.

“Ugh, didn’t get much sleep last night. Baby’s been kicking for a bit now. Likes to do it in the middle of the night,” Heather answered. 

“How far along are you?” Usually Hiccup would ask first if it was fine for him to ask that sort of thing, but that didn’t come to mind. Toothless padded up to Heather to say hello, and she smiled down at the dragon, pet him on the head.

“Gothi said about five and a half to six months,” Heather answered. “So, farther along than I originally thought.” 

Toothless cooed affectionately, rubbed the side of his face against Heather’s stomach, and Heather giggled, while Hiccup just frowned. That baby came from Dagur and here Toothless was showing love for it. He knew Toothless would have no way of knowing who it came from, but it still irked him anyway.

“Are you saying hi to the baby too?” Heather asked him lightly, and Toothless responded by rubbing his face against her again, and Heather laughed. “How do you think he knows?” That question was directed at Hiccup.

Hiccup was working hard on taking regular breaths. If he hadn’t been compromised like this he probably would have had a good answer, but all he could say was: “He’s smart.”

Hiccup was glad when Toothless came back over to him, but he winced when Toothless set his head in his lap, and he had to try hard not to buck up against him. He knew any of that was wrong, but not-Hiccup didn’t care, wanted any kind of stimulation.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Hiccup scratched behind his ear. He was feeling much too hot sitting next to the fire with a cloak on, feeling too hot with clothes on in general, with the arousal burning through his veins. Oh gods, to fuck someone on that rug beside the fire… He turned his head away from Heather, mouth falling open in hard pants.

“You sure?” Heather leaned forward. “You don’t really look okay.”

He swallowed hard, just gazing at the flickering flames, trying to focus on them, to draw his mind away from what his body was telling him it needed. He set both his hands on Toothless’ head to keep his hands away from himself. He didn’t answer.

“Hiccup?”

He could hardly hear her. He just heard his own heart pounding. He felt hyper aware of how his body felt, how his breaths were heavy and ragged, how sweat slid down around his neck. Precum beaded at his slit, and a whimper came up from his throat. He needed it. He needed it bad.

He just stared at the flames, and his mind made images dance in them, images of people having sex. He wanted to  _ be  _ one of those people, wanted to join them in the fire. Maybe he had already. He felt like he was fire anyway.

His mind wandered to memories, of things Dagur had done to him, things that his body had liked. The way he’d practically attempt to eat his body, and then his cock. Yes, his mouth on his cock. He was so good with it, could take him all the way in, then massage his balls or finger him at the same time. He’d put in two fingers, three, sometimes a fourth, stretch him wide and rub at his prostate till his was shaking from it. And then he’d put his cock in him, his  _ nice _ ,  _ thick  _ cock, would rut him as hard and fast as he could till they were reaching their end together. He just wanted someone to get him off like that again, wanted to feel a body moving against his, breath on him, lips. A cock would be nice. Really nice. It needed to be big though, like Dagur’s. He’d gotten so used to the feeling of it that it would seem a comfort to him.

He thought in bliss of all the ways Dagur had taken him. Dagur definitely had a preference for having him on his back so he could look at him, and he was fine with that as long as he was fucking him. his legs hadn’t really gotten in the way for that. Dagur would always find a way to get them spread for him, would hook them over his arms and grab his hips, put them at his shoulders, or just bend him right in half. Dagur had been stunned by his ability to do that, and now he was more than willing to do it again, to please him in anyway possible to make sure that he himself got pleasure in return. 

That would entail Dagur’s cock in his mouth, his throat, and gods, did he want it right now. He wanted  _ something  _ in his mouth. His tongue would work too, with his lips against him. Mm, but what about his lips on his neck, his nipples? And his  _ hands.  _ He just wanted to be completely smothered by him.

Then there  _ were  _ hands touching him, gently, on his face, lifting his head. He expected to meet Dagur’s eyes, but the gaze he was met with was blue, the face feminine. He felt like he was nearly drooling. A woman would work too.

“Hiccup?”

He knew who this woman was. “Astrid.” His voice was rough.

Astrid turned, no longer speaking to him, but he was glad her hands stayed on his face. “Heather, you have to leave. Take Toothless with you. Bring him to Fishlegs.”

“What? Why? I’m not even dressed!”

“Heather, please, just trust me.”

He didn’t pay attention to the other person that was now moving about the hut. Astrid was looking back to him, stroking her thumbs over his cheeks.

“Hiccup, stay with me, okay?”

Stay with her? What did she mean?

“Why would I leave?” he asked, confused.

Astrid muttered what sounded like a curse under her breath. “Try to take deep breaths. Just look at me.”

He brought his hand up to try to touch her face, but then Astrid was taking ahold of it and yanking it back down, not letting go of him. Why wouldn’t she let him touch her?

He didn’t know how to steady his breathing, but he did look at her though, looked at her body. Why did she have clothes on? Why did  _ he  _ have clothes on?

“No, my eyes,” Astrid ordered, and he lifted his head up. Her eyes  _ were  _ beautiful, he supposed.

The weight came off of his lap with a rumbling sound, but he paid it no mind. Then there was the sound of a door opening and shutting, and they were alone. Finally.

He went at her. He threw off his cloak, grabbed Astrid around the waist, and took them both to the floor, Astrid giving a surprised shout. He rutted his hips desperately against her, moaning at the pleasure it gave him. It wasn’t enough though. He wanted to be  _ inside  _ her.

Astrid’s legs wrapped around him, and he had a moment of joy that she was reciprocating, but then she rolled, pinned him to the floor with a hand on his shoulder. There was the sound of a weapon being drawn, and his eyes went wide in surprise when Astrid put a dagger to his neck.

“ _ Don’t  _ touch me.”

Hiccup came surging back to himself so fast that it hurt his chest and he was gasping for breath. He let go of Astrid, put his trembling hands to his face.

“Gods, oh gods! I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! I-It was him! I’m sorry! I would never!” Tears were gushing from him, sobs. “Astrid, I’m sorry, I’m  _ sorry! _ ”

Astrid drew her dagger away, sheathed it. Hiccup tried his best to ignore the way her weight rested against his groin, the way her legs touched his, but even just laying there and crying, he could feel not-Hiccup trying to resurface.

“Hiccup, sh, I know it wasn’t you.” Astrid climbed off of him, and Hiccup pulled his hands away from his face to see Astrid holding her hand out to him. He took it gingerly, let her help him to his feet. “Are you gonna be okay?”

Hiccup choked on a sob, shook his head. Then he put his wrists together and held them out to her as a sign for her to tie him up.

  
  


Astrid sat in a chair on the other side of her room from not-Hiccup, making a point to be sharpening one of her daggers. She didn’t know if not-Hiccup could comprehend threats, if the only thing possible for him to understand was sex, but she figured she’d try anyway. He was thrashing around on the bed, pulling at his restraints.

Astrid was still shaken from what had happened, how he’d just jumped on her. It seemed she’d arrived just before he completely lost himself. She was glad that he hadn’t done anything to Heather, but the fact that he’d almost done something to her…

But then the real Hiccup had come back, but would he have done that without having the dagger to his neck? Would he have done that without the threat of danger?

She had to hope that he would have, that the real Hiccup would have stopped himself, weapon or no weapon. He cared about her too much to let some other side of himself do something to her.

“Astrid, please!”

Astrid said nothing, just drew the whetstone over the blade of the dagger once again.

“Please!”

Astrid held up the dagger to examine it, deemed it not sharp enough, and went back to grating the stone across its surface. As she did it, she imagined stabbing Dagur for ruining Hiccup like this, for turning him into this.

If she was being truthful, she was getting worried that this wasn’t working. Hiccup’s time as not-Hiccup was starting to last longer rather than growing shorter, and he was seeming to need it more and more. Instead of breaking him out of his addiction, depriving him only seemed to be making it worse. She didn’t know what to do though. It wouldn’t be right if she did anything with him while he was like this, while he wasn’t himself. It wouldn’t count as consent. Hiccup wasn’t truly there, so there was nothing he could consent to. Not-Hiccup’s cries for it didn’t matter.

Astrid wished she could talk to him, could try coaxing the real Hiccup back, but she’d tried that before, and not-Hiccup hadn’t given a damn. He’d just tried manipulating her with his own talking.

Not-Hiccup had stopped moving and yelling, was now trying to catch his breath, probably forming his next course of action. It was rare that he gave up until the very end of it.

Not-Hiccup started moving again, but it wasn’t in an attempt to get free. He steadily rolled his hips, bit his lower lip as he looked at her. Astrid glowered, not liking this attempt at all, because dammit, he really did look attractive like that, but it wasn’t going to work.

“Save it.” She sheathed her dagger, crossed her arms, and leaned back. “Not going to work.”

“You don’t know that.” He spread his legs wide, jutted his hips at her in a way that made his tunic ride up to show the bulge in his pants.

Astrid huffed, but said nothing. 

“Come on, you know you like me.”

“I like Hiccup.”

“I am Hiccup.” He pouted at her in a way that made his lips look fuller.

Astrid turned her head away from him. “Yak-shit.”

Not-Hiccup sighed. “Look, if you come over here, I’ll eat you out. Dagur said I’m really good with my tongue.”

Astrid’s stomach twisted. Why did he have to mention Dagur? That just made this whole ordeal worse.

“I don’t care. Keep it in your mouth, and keep that shut.”

Not-Hiccup surprisingly said nothing else. About a minute passed in silence, and then she heard a grunt from him. She looked to see him pulling at his bonds again. It seemed that this time with him was going to be longer than the last.

  
  


Hiccup didn’t know why he was back already. The urge, that horrifying  _ need _ wasn’t gone, but not-Hiccup was. He’d been getting nowhere with Astrid, and had relinquished his mind and body back to him.

“Gods, Astrid, how long was I like that?”

“Uh-uh. I said no more talking.”

“Wait, Astrid! It’s me!” Hiccup cried. “I swear!”

Astrid looked to him, stood from her chair and came over. Hiccup’s throat constricted at the way she looked him over. She clearly noticed the bulge between his legs, which was probably why she shook her head. It frustrated Hiccup, but he guessed it made sense. He was never still like this after an ordeal with not-Hiccup. Gods, it was  _ hurting.  _ He wanted to be touched at the same time he didn’t. He just wanted to be satisfied. He hadn’t thought there was anything left of him to break, but being deprived of his addiction felt like it was breaking him all over again.

“How can I prove it to you?”

Astrid didn’t respond, just reached out a hand towards him, and Hiccup flinched away as best as he could while tied up, a look of terror crossing his face. She could easily hurt him like this, could do whatever she wanted.

Astrid lowered her hand. “Alright, it’s you. But why do you still have… you know?”

Hiccup let himself relax a little, (as best he could anyway), and then Astrid began untying him. 

“I-I don’t know,” he answered as he sat up, rubbing at his wrists. “Usually it goes away.” He swallowed hard. He was still himself, but that didn’t stop how badly he just wanted to stick his hand between his legs and take care of things on his own. “Astrid, I don’t think I can do this anymore. It’s… It’s not working.” He shook his head. “It’s getting worse and I don’t know what to do! I need it and I don’t know what to do! Please!”

Astrid sat down beside him, but not close enough to touch him. “I’ve been thinking the same thing,” she admitted. “It seems like keeping it from you is making the addiction worse.”

Hiccup shouted in frustration, put his head in his hands. “Dammit, I just want it to go away! I want to be normal again!” Maybe if he channeled his lust into anger, it would leave, but it didn’t feel like it was.

“Maybe you… can’t be,” Astrid told him carefully. That was  _ not  _ what Hiccup wanted to hear.

“ _ What? _ ”

“Well, maybe you have to find a new normal,” Astrid said as he peered up at her, still not lifting his head. “Your old normal is gone, and you have to find a new one. Old Hiccup could have gone a day without sex and been fine, but maybe this new Hiccup-” she gestured to him- “can’t.”

Hiccup furrowed his brow, straightened. “So what are you suggesting?”

Astrid took a deep breath. “Well, I’m asking I suppose. I’m asking if you want to try anything.”

Excitement bubbled in his stomach, but not without unease. “You mean something sexual?” Was Astrid going to allow him to have what he wanted? Was he going to allow himself?

Astrid nodded. She put her hand near his, got a questioning look on her face, clearly asking if she could hold it, and Hiccup responded by putting his hand in hers.

“I don’t know,” Hiccup said. “I… I might hate myself after. And I’m scared,” he admitted. “I’m really scared. I’m afraid of being touched, but I want sex and it makes no fucking sense.”

“It’s all up to you, Hiccup. I’m not pressuring you into anything. You’re allowed to say no.”

Hiccup pursed his lips as he thought. “Am I allowed to tell you to stop?”

“Yes.”

“And am I allowed to stop?”

“Of course.”

“You won’t… jump on me even if you’re not finished?” All these questions were necessary for him. He needed to hear her say all of it.

“I would never even think of it, Hiccup.”

“You won’t hurt me, right?”

“No.” Astrid gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I promise I won’t.”

“Even after I, um… climax?” Hiccup licked his lips.

“What? No! Of course not!”

“I just… I just had to ask,” Hiccup told her. “Dagur, he would… he’d keep going after I was done.” He didn’t know why he was telling her this. “He’d keep fucking me, or grab my cock and not let it go, or keep sucking, and it just- it hurt like all Hel. He didn’t give a damn about my limits.”

“Well, I do give a damn about that, alright?” Astrid was looking at him endearingly. She was now holding his hand between both of hers. “And I give a damn about your boundaries and your wants and needs. I’ll heed anything you say.”

The unease was fading, and lust was still burning away at the edges of Hiccup’s sanity.

“So, are we going to do this?”

“Completely up to you, Hiccup.”

“But what about you? Do you want it?” He realized that he hadn’t asked that, hadn’t checked for Astrid’s feelings on the matter.

“Hiccup, I’m the one who brought it up. What do you think I want?”

“Um…”

“And no, it’s not solely to have sex with you.” She gently touched his face. “I care about you more than that. I don’t just want your body. I want  _ you _ . I want you, Hiccup Haddock, and I want to help you.”

“I have to hear it though,” Hiccup said. “I have to hear you say yes.”

“I have to hear it from you too.”

The excitement sprang into Hiccup’s chest. “Yes.”

Astrid gave him a small smile. “Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry. I'm not cutting the first time Hiccstrid has sex again after Hiccup's captivity. That'll be in the next chapter so I can focus on it more.


	100. Chapter 99

Hiccup moaned when his lips touched Astrid’s. Gods, he really did need this. He cupped her cheek with his free hand, and she grasped at the back of his neck. They kissed languidly, slowly, opening their mouths to each other and teasing with tongues. Hiccup only grew more aroused at the sounds their lips made as they moved together.

He paused, panting, pressing his forehead to hers. “Is it okay if I take my clothes off? They’re driving me crazy.”

“Whatever makes you more comfortable, Hiccup.”

He stood and stripped in almost no time at all, and it made him feel really good. He’d taken them off of his own volition. He was engaging in a sexual act of his own volition. Nothing was being taken or pulled or forced from him. He found his way back to Astrid’s lips, but she didn’t touch him, only kissed back, and Hiccup whined before pulling away.

“Astrid, you can touch me. Please. I want you to.”

“Are you absolutely sure?”

“As long as you’ll stop if I say to,” Hiccup responded. He didn’t want her to think that his consent to one thing meant consent to everything. 

“I will.”

“Then touch me, dammit.” He took her face in both hands, pulled her into another hot and heavy kiss, and she finally touched him. Her hands ran over his torso, and he wasn’t yet used to how small they were in comparison to Dagur’s, but he would have to be fine with it, would have to get used to it again, because this was Astrid and he wanted her. 

Hiccup ran his fingers into her hair and groaned into her mouth as she rubbed at one nipple. Then she was simultaneously stroking at his left thigh, and the touch was so fulfilling but giving him more want all at the same time.

“Astrid, my cock,” he gasped out.

“Are you sure?”

Hiccup almost told her to stop asking questions, but he’d be afraid if she did that. Dagur had never asked, had never double-checked with him about anything. It was frustrating and endearing all at once.

“Absolutely.”

He went in to kiss her again, but her hand was around his cock, stroking it gently, and all he could do was hold onto her and moan out his pleasure.  _ Gods _ , that felt beyond good. Relieved tears sprang into his eyes. He’d needed this so  _ badly _ .

He grasped at Astrid’s hair with one hand, the other going to her hip, panting.

“Oh fuck, Astrid.”

“You okay?”

Hiccup couldn’t hold onto her any longer, his fingers weak and trembling. He just placed his hands down beside him to brace himself, arched into her.

“Better than that.” At his words, Astrid came in and kissed him again, and Hiccup managed to take ahold of her, repositioned himself and laid back, pulling Astrid on top of him. He kissed her ravenously, stuck his hands under the back of her shirt and stroked over her back, moving his hips into her hand. Then Astrid was moving down from his mouth to his neck, and Hiccup tilted his head back with a happy sigh to expose his throat.

“Can I kiss all your scars?” Astrid asked him.

“What? Why would you want to do that?” Astrid had lifted her head, so Hiccup looked at her questioningly. “They’re… awful.” This was certainly killing the mood. “I want them gone.”

“But they’re part of you now.”

“That doesn’t mean they’re not ugly.”

“They’re not.” Astrid lowered her head, mouth close to his brand, her eyes questioning. There was love in her gaze, but luckily the word wasn’t on her lips. “Let me show you.”

His scars. He had them all over his body. He hated them, but if Astrid was going to kiss them, that meant he’d have more attention. He nodded.

Astrid ran her hands over Hiccup’s sides, pressed her lips to his brand. Hiccup found himself grasping at her ass. He wanted her to be naked as well, but that could wait till after she was done with this.

Astrid kissed all over his brand before sucking and lapping at his nipples, and pleasure arced through Hiccup’s body. He clutched hard at her, curved desperately against her, moaning. He couldn’t believe just how good this felt. It was like he’d forgotten after being deprived of it. Was it possible to just die from pure satisfaction?

She made her way down his torso, and for a moment those lips didn’t exactly feel like hers, felt like Dagur’s instead, and he tensed, nearly threw her off of him. As soon as it occurred though, it was over, and the real sensations were back, the sensations of her small calloused hands and her lovely lips and the way her upper body was pressing against his cock. He bucked against her, ran his hands over her back. She turned her head, touched her lips to the tip of the scar in his left side. Then she was running them down, down, till she was at the edge of the scar at his pelvis, nearly at his cock, and his hands were tangled in her hair. Locks were coming undone from her braid, and she looked beautiful like that.

“ _ Agh _ …” Hiccup rolled his hips up into Astrid as one of her hands again found his cock. She kissed the head of it, leaving him breathless and shaking. Fuck, he’d really missed this.

Hiccup whined, moaned out her name as she kissed a trail down the underside of him. Precum trickled from his slit, and she just used that to slick him up more. He didn’t know how long he’d be able to last. His body was leaping to orgasm after not having experienced this in what felt like forever.

Astrid’s mouth found the runes on his thigh, her hand still sliding over him slowly, and Hiccup was clutching at the blankets beneath him, twisting his head. He whimpered as Astrid’s hand went up, her thumb rubbing back and forth over his slit and his frenulum. Pleasure burned through him in the most amazing manner, like water refreshing him on a hot day. After many hot days. He’d been dehydrated and was now getting exactly what he needed.

His orgasm crackled closer, and terror suddenly punched him hard in the stomach. He was going to be hurt after, tortured.

“Astrid, stop, stop!”

And, just like that, she did. Instantly. Hiccup went limp on the bed, chest heaving. He ached in the absence of the pleasure, wanted to reach his end, but he couldn’t, not with the way ice was shuddering through his veins to destroy the lovely heat.

“Hiccup, what’s wrong?”

“Was gonna- was gonna cum.” He felt ridiculous admitting it but: “I’m scared to.”

“That’s okay, Hiccup.” That wasn’t the answer he’d been expecting, though he knew Astrid was nothing like Dagur. He’d been expecting her to just make it happen anyway, angrily question why he was afraid. “Only when you’re ready to, alright?”

Hiccup inhaled deeply, nodded.

“In the meantime, can I kiss the scars on your back?”

In answer, Hiccup rolled over onto his stomach, and he groaned when Astrid straddled him, expecting to feel an erection against his ass, but of course, there was nothing. He didn’t understand. He hadn’t thought he liked men, and he still couldn’t figure out if he did or not, but he wanted something  _ in  _ him, and he didn’t know how to tell her that.

Astrid just rubbed Hiccup’s back, trying to kiss each and every one of his scars, and it reminded him of the last time he’d done this with her, months ago when she’d wanted to kiss each of his freckles. He couldn’t believe that she actually wanted to touch him here, feel over all of his ruined skin and put her mouth to it like she was worshipping it. It felt good though, especially when she began rubbing out the knots in his shoulders. Another moan slipped out.

“How’s that, Hiccup?”

“Good, thank you.” The feeling of her body against his ass was driving him crazy though, and he found himself arching up into it, like she had something to give him. She didn’t say anything about it at first, but after some time she did.

“What are you doing?”

Hiccup’s face flushed, and shame ate away at his stomach.

“I, uh…” Could he even say it? “I want something in my ass.”

“Really? That’s not going to hurt you?”

He curved into her more, reaching for something that wasn’t there. If only she had a toy or something she could fuck him with.

“No.” In him. Please. He wanted something  _ in  _ him. He gave up on feeling embarrassed. “Are you opposed to fingering me?”

“Not if it’ll feel good for you.”

Hiccup nearly moaned at those words. “Yes, Astrid. It’ll feel good.”

Astrid moved down his legs, leaving his ass exposed, and Hiccup shuddered in anticipation.

“Just tell me what to do, alright?”

“Two fingers at first.” Astrid had slender fingers. He could definitely take that to start off, especially after having Dagur make him take two of  _ his  _ to start off. “Suck on them. Make them nice and wet.” There was a burning in his stomach that was working its way outwards to the rest of his body. He groaned a little when he heard Astrid put her fingers in her mouth, and her other hand landed on his ass to gently squeeze it.

“Okay, you see my rim? Rub your fingers over it first.  _ Aw _ , just like that. Mm…” Hiccup admitted that it felt strange to have another person’s fingers here, and he suddenly felt like it was wrong, like Dagur was the only person that was supposed to touch him here. His brand tingled. He ignored all of it. He  _ wanted  _ this. He figured Dagur really had turned him into a whore, and he was going to act on it.

“Now put them inside. All the way.”

“Are you sure?”

“Hel yes.”

Hiccup fisted his hands in the blankets and arched as Astrid’s fingers entered him. Satisfied and relieved tears trailed down his face as he moaned.

“Yes, yes, yes!” She hadn’t even touched his prostate yet, but he didn’t need her to to feel good from this. That didn’t change the fact that he wanted her to though. It felt good to cry out the word “yes” after having uttered “no” so many times with it meaning nothing. It felt good for it to be genuine. 

“Curl your fingers. You should feel somethi- Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods! Right there!  _ Ungh! Fuck! _ ” Hiccup shook at the touch of her fingers against his prostate, pleasure racing up through his spine and into his cock. If he hadn’t been crying already he would have started now. He’d  _ missed  _ this. “ _ Astrid… _ ”

Astrid giggled a little. “So I’m assuming I found the right spot?”

“ _ Ye-es. _ ” The feeling was so good that Hiccup sobbed. “M-massage it. Gods, please.”

“And I’m not hurting you?” Astrid checked.

“Y-you’re not.” Hiccup got his knees underneath him to bring his ass closer to Astrid’s fingers, to make them sink a little deeper. “ _ Please. _ ”

Hiccup gritted his teeth and whined loudly as Astrid began rubbing at his prostate, but as she continued, he just couldn’t keep his mouth shut, and let his voice come out in moans and sobs and wails. He wondered if this was what drugs felt like to some people, and he figured it was his own drug in a way. Sexual pleasure was coursing through his veins and he loved every bit of it.

“Third finger,” he requested. “Fuck me with them.”

“You su-?”

“Yes! Just do it!”

Hiccup bowed his head against the pillows as Astrid did what he requested, pushing in a third finger and then sliding them in and out. It wasn’t enough though. He was used to something thicker, longer, was used to being made more full. He doubted Astrid would be comfortable enough to put her whole fist in him though. He hadn’t liked it when Dagur had done that to him, but Astrid’s hands were small, and he could take that from her. He wanted to.

“Oh gods, Astrid, harder.”

He was glad when Astrid didn’t ask this time, and Hiccup loved the rough slide of her fingers in him. More, he wanted more. He positioned himself on one shoulder, then stuck a hand underneath and gripped his cock, pumping it frantically. Astrid’s free hand stroked the back of one thigh. Hiccup was adoring her touch. He wanted her to add in a fourth finger, but he knew she wouldn’t be comfortable enough to do that.

His orgasm was building, and Hiccup found himself yanking his own hand away from his cock, almost afraid that he would overstimulate himself by accident. He’d orgasmed touching his cock since his captivity, but it had always been a moment of both terror and bliss. Now he could get off without that.

“G-gonna cum.”

“With just this?”

“Uh-huh! Fuck! Harder!”

White fire burst through Hiccup’s body as his climax crashed into him. He gripped the blankets as tightly as he could, shouts and tears leaving him, shudders rocking through him as his muscles contracted and his cock twitched and spurted cum. Once it was over, Astrid withdrew her fingers from him, and Hiccup rolled and flopped down onto his back, breathing hard, euphoria twisting through every nerve. He felt like he was high.

“Hiccup, are you okay?” Astrid ran a hand over his chest, a thumb rubbing over his nipple, and his eyes rolled back at the sensation. At first he hadn’t liked being touched after having an orgasm like this, had thought it hurt, especially there, but now it just felt excellent. And besides, he wasn’t finished yet. Despite the intensity of that orgasm, he’d need another one.

“Better than okay,” he breathed. Her hand went a little lower, and he tensed. “B-but don’t touch my cock.”

“Don’t worry. I wasn’t going to,” Astrid assured him. “But this is okay?”

Hiccup nodded. “Feels good.” He was able to open his eyes, and he flushed when he realized he’d made a mess on the blankets. “Oh man, I’m sorry about that.”

Astrid just kept rubbing his chest, and Hiccup wanted to tell her to touch his nipples, but didn’t know how without making it sound awkward. 

“It’s alright. I was planning on cleaning them today anyway.”

Hiccup didn’t exactly believe her about that, but he wouldn’t fight her on it.

“So how are you feeling?” There was a finality to her words, like she expected him to be finished. He supposed he’d have to be if she wasn’t into doing anything else. “Sated?”

Hiccup’s cheeks turned even redder. 

_ Yep. I’m a whore _ , he thought degradingly.

“Uh, only halfway.” He cleared his throat. “He’d force me to keep going, to uh, cum twice, so now I just seem to need it that way.”

“Don’t be embarrassed, Hiccup. It’s not your fault.” Astrid continued before he could fight her on that. “So what did you have in mind?”

Hiccup propped himself up on his elbows. “Well, I was thinking that I could pleasure you.” He wanted to. Badly. Astrid especially deserved it after the orgasm she’d given him. She deserved to be happy, deserved things he felt like he couldn’t give her for being by his side through this and helping him. He reached out a hand and caressed her hip. “Is that alright with you?”

Astrid smiled at him, came in for a kiss. “Absolutely.” She kissed him again. “Am I allowed to be truthful about how that made me feel?”

Hiccup nodded. If Astrid was turned on by him, that was a good thing. She wasn’t going to hurt him because of her arousal. It was nothing like when Dagur had been aroused by him.

Astrid moved to his ear. “Seeing and hearing you like that was really hot.”

It was Hiccup’s turn to smile a little. He reached down between her legs, rubbed at her through her leggings, and she was so wet he could feel it through the fabric. She certainly wasn’t lying.

“Undress for me?” Hiccup asked.

“You got it, babe.”

Hiccup had inadvertently tensed at that, having expected her to call him “baby” the way Dagur did, but Astrid never did that. It was just babe, and he was fine with that. He was also glad Astrid wasn’t into the whole encouragement thing. Well, maybe he wasn’t. A lot of the time he got aroused from the thought of Dagur panting and growling praise into his ear, but it scared him at the same time. Luckily, he hadn’t heard his voice through this, not the way he did whenever he touched himself. Maybe Astrid’s presence was helping with that.

Hiccup steadily rubbed himself back to hardness as he watched Astrid undress. His worries that he no longer understood his sexuality momentarily left as he looked at her. She was stunningly beautiful, and he wanted to touch her everywhere he could. He noticed a mark above her right breast that had clearly been made from someone’s mouth, but he wasn’t bothered by that. He knew that was from Heather, and he was glad that someone else cared for Astrid, that she was getting care and pleasure from someone else. Maybe with two people, she’d get the amount of good she deserved.

He sat up, and Astrid came and settled herself in his lap. Hiccup maneuvered one hand between her legs to rub at her clit, used the other to stroke over the front of her body and fondle her breasts. It felt so good to be touching a woman. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been missing it.

They touched lips, intertwined tongues, and Astrid moaned into his mouth and leaned into his touch. It felt so good to be  _ reciprocating _ , to be touching and pleasuring someone he wanted to pleasure. He’d been forced to pleasure Dagur and had hated every moment of it, but this was something he wanted to do. His arousal was quickly spiking at touching her like this, at feeling and hearing the evidence of her satisfaction with it.

Hiccup gently settled her down onto her back, climbed on top of her. Astrid ran hands over his back, his ass, his sides. He pulled himself from her mouth to kiss his way down her body. He paid special attention to her breasts, loving how soft her flesh was, how she gasped when he sucked on a nipple.

Astrid’s fingers went into his hair, and Hiccup panicked, abruptly pulled himself off of her, gasping. 

“D-don’t touch my hair.” Dagur had used his hair to control him, to make him put his mouth exactly where he’d wanted it, to hold him down on him and not let him breathe. He’d tugged to the point of it hurting, had used the hold to force him to look him in the eye. He knew Astrid wouldn’t do the same to him, but he couldn’t help but feel that she would.

“Okay. I’m sorry. I won’t,” Astrid told him in a rush.

“Good.” Hiccup lowered himself back onto her, kissed down her stomach, then to her thighs, gently holding her by the hips. He was hyper aware of his touch there, remembering his only recently past injury, not wanting to hold her too tightly and hurt her. 

Then he stuck his face between her legs, pressing his tongue flat against her folds and working it up to her clit. The way Astrid moaned at that was beautiful, and so Hiccup kept at it. He was quite enjoying this. He hadn’t liked performing oral on Dagur, not in the least, but he liked doing this to Astrid. He was glad she was letting him, that she didn’t find his mouth and every part of him tainted the way he did. 

Hiccup moaned against her as he wrapped his lips around her clit and prodded it with his tongue. He loved the taste of her. It drowned out the taste of Dagur that always seemed to be a ghost on his tongue. 

Fingers in his hair, but before Hiccup could really react, they were quickly gone.

“Sorry, Hiccup. It’s just -  _ ah…  _ \- this is so good.”

Hiccup didn’t respond, too busy pleasuring her with his mouth. It was good to do something for someone with his mouth without having to worry about his gag reflex or having something shoved down his throat and his mouth fucked against his will. Then again, he was pretty sure Dagur had completely destroyed his gag reflex.

A flash of memory. Dagur tightly gripping his hair, pounding away at his throat with guttural moans and words of praise that only worked to feel degrading. Hiccup yanked his head up, making a strangled noise in his throat like there was really something in there.

Astrid noticed right away that something wasn’t right. She sat up, reached out for him.

“Hiccup, what’s wrong?”

Hiccup cleared his throat, trying to shake off the memory. He didn’t understand it, but he suddenly wanted something in his mouth.

“Nothing, nothing.” He pulled himself up, took Astrid’s hand, and stuck three of her fingers into his mouth. There. That was better. He didn’t really know what need of his he was fulfilling by doing this, but he just had to. He began sucking on them, licking them, bobbing his head over them. He felt Astrid’s eyes on him, curious, and after a while he realized that he was simulating the way he sucked a cock. His face heated at that, and he pulled away.

“Sorry. I, uh…”

“Sh, Hiccup, it’s alright.” Astrid gently took him by the chin, had him lifting his head to look at her. “You can explain after. No need right now.”

They kissed again. Astrid worked her tongue into his mouth, and Hiccup was quick to suck on it. Shame dug around in his stomach. Maybe he had liked sucking Dagur’s cock and now needed something to pretend with. Or maybe it was just something about the motions that he liked. He’d been forced to do it, so maybe it made sense that it had become a sexual habit. Sex meant having something in his mouth… right?

He pressed Astrid onto her back again, and he loved having her like that underneath him.  _ He  _ was on top.  _ He  _ was in power.  _ He  _ was in control. He wanted to be inside of her, but at the same time the thought disgusted him. The last person he’d been inside was Dagur. He didn’t deserve to do this with Astrid, but he  _ wanted  _ to.

Astrid grasped at his shoulders, pulled away from his mouth. “Hiccup, please. Inside me.”

Hiccup decided not to fight her on that. She’d read that thing he’d written for her. She knew about everything, and still, she wanted him, and he wanted her, so he wasn’t going to argue. Hiccup was frantic. He took his cock with one hand, positioned it at Astrid’s entrance, and sank inside with a moan. He closed his eyes, jutting his hips into her, propping up his arms and curving his body. Astrid gave a cry, grabbed at his hips to yank him farther down into her. 

Once he was in her fully, Hiccup began slowly thrusting. He wanted to just go at her as hard as he could, but didn’t want to hurt her either.

“Feels so good,” he breathed. He hadn’t been in someone he’d wanted to for a very long time, and this was  _ Astrid. _ She was hot and wet and familiar. Memories of being inside Dagur tried to surge up, but the clear feeling of this being Astrid and no one else drove those away. He leaned down to kiss at her neck, breathing hard, a moan coming out with each breath, and she was making lovely sounds of pleasure right back at him. It was a strain to not just pound her into the mattress.

Astrid traced her fingers over his back, his shoulders, his arms. “Hiccup, you can go harder.” So she could tell that all his muscles were tensed in an attempt to hold himself back.

“Don’t wanna hurt you.”

Astrid wrapped her legs tight around him, took his face in two hands and lifted it to have him look at her. Hiccup’s heart raced faster at the eye contact. He always associated something bad with that, and his breath caught when he saw a flash of Dagur’s eyes, full of malice and lust. They faded into a loving blue and he was able to relax.

“Hiccup, this is for you. Do what you have to, alright?”

Hiccup hated it, hated that he felt like he  _ had  _ to do this, hated that he was insatiable and addicted to sex, but Astrid was letting him indulge in his addiction to keep him from losing his mind. Maybe he should just let himself enjoy something for once.

“You sure?”

Astrid bit her lip, nodded, and Hiccup couldn’t resist with that look on her face. He let himself increase the ferocity of his movements, tilting his head back with a pleased shout as he did so. Astrid wrapped her arms around his back, held onto him tightly, as if to brace herself.

Hiccup forgot about any of the emotions associated with this, lost himself to the sensations: their bodies pressed against each other, heaving breaths and moaning together, the first droplets of sweat sliding between them, the slap of skin on skin, and  _ gods _ , the sweet friction and heat and wetness as he pounded into her. It was like his cock was wrapped in silk.

Time passed and Astrid climaxed, muscles contracting around him, and Hiccup yelled right along with her at the sensation. He didn’t care how loud he was being. How was he supposed to stay quiet?

A third voice entered the throng, and Hiccup could swear he felt another hand, a larger hand, stroking over his back.

_ “That’s it, baby. That’s it.” _

_ Shut up, Dagur. I’m with Astrid. Leave me alone. _

_ “Come on. Work for me.” _

“Shut up,” Hiccup gasped out loud without meaning to.

“Me?”

Hiccup bowed his head against Astrid, kissed at her shoulder, not slowing. “No, no.  _ Him _ .”

_ “What a good boy.” _

“Shut  _ up! _ ” 

“Hiccup, focus on me.” Astrid’s voice was desperate. “I’m here. I’m right here. It’s just you and me.” She was caressing her hands over his body. “You and me.”

_ “Cum for me.” _

And, Hiccup did, his climax coming almost unexpectedly. He didn’t even have time to ask Astrid if it was alright for him to finish in her. He groaned and whined against her skin as pleasure burned through his cock, and then his voice climbed into a scream through gritted teeth as she reached her end with him.

Hiccup slowed to a stop, rested his chin on her shoulder, panting. He waited for Dagur’s voice, but he was quiet now.

“Sorry.”

“For what?”

“Didn’t ask if I could-”

“Hiccup, it’s alright. I’ve let you do it before.”

“I know. I just…” Hiccup didn’t know how to voice his thoughts. “Never mind.” He pulled out of her, laid down on his back, and Astrid cuddled into his side. He wrapped an arm around her, enjoying how normal it felt. For a long while neither of them said anything, just focusing on relaxing and catching their breath. Hiccup hadn’t felt this good in a long while.

“How are you feeling?” Astrid asked, resting her head on his chest.

“Good. Really good.” The words felt foreign to him, and it was hard to believe that he actually meant it. “You?”

“Yeah. Same.” He couldn’t see Astrid’s face but he could tell she was smiling. “I missed doing that with you.”

“Hey, but at least you’re getting some from Heather.”

“Please don’t be jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” Hiccup told her truthfully. “We already discussed this and I understand your relationship with her. I think it’s good that you have another person that can be there for you. You deserve all the good in the world and I don’t think I have it.”

Astrid rolled onto her stomach, placing her chin on his chest so she could look at him. “Now you’re just putting yourself down.”

“I mean it. I still can’t fathom how you want me.”

Astrid laid a hand over the Skrill in his chest. “Because you’re still you, Hiccup.”

“Doesn’t feel like it. Old me didn’t hear voices. And he definitely didn’t… want to fuck guys.”

“Okay. Let’s talk about this.” Astrid inched up closer to his face. “If you do also like guys, it’s not a problem. You don’t think there’s anything wrong with me liking girls.”

“Of course there’s nothing wrong with you liking girls. But that’s…  _ you _ , Astrid. It came from you, not from something that happened to you.”

Astrid kept on. “Do you find guys attractive?”

Hiccup answered honestly. “I don’t know.”

“Think about it. Picture a man naked. Think about what you might like about his body.”

The only man Hiccup could picture naked was Dagur, with all his hard muscle and his scars and his tattoos, and his cock nice and thick between his legs. His mind instantly focused on that, and he hummed a little.

“Find something you like?”

“Just his… just his cock,” Hiccup admitted. He didn’t have to tell her that who he’d pictured was Dagur, that he couldn’t picture anyone else. “Nothing else is attractive.” His eyes flitted down to hers. “I much prefer looking at you.”

Astrid pursed her lips a little in thought, and Hiccup felt privileged for having been able to kiss them.

“That is a bit of a conundrum,” she said. “So you’re not attracted to men save for their genitals?”

“I guess,” Hiccup answered. He felt embarrassed talking about this, but he figured that it was better to talk about it rather than just leave it inside and not have his needs met. “I still want you but I also want… a dick?” It came off as a question and his voice cracked.

“Hey, you can have both,” Astrid told him.

Hiccup rolled his eyes. “Astrid, I’m not gonna go fuck someone else.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” She played her fingers along his chest. “We can make some stuff for you. Nothing wrong with having some sex toys. And we can even have one that I can wear so we can have sex that way.”

Hiccup was blushing furiously. “But what about you? That wouldn’t make you feel good.”

“I like making you feel good,” Astrid told him. “Besides, you need to orgasm twice, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“So it won’t be a problem. How do you feel about all that?”

“Kinda weird,” Hiccup admitted.

“Why? Sex is normal.”

Hiccup sighed. “It hasn’t been for me for a long time. I feel weird about the whole thing now that I’ve been used for it.”

“It’s okay. We’ll only do what makes you comfortable.”

“Thank you, Astrid.” He lifted his head to kiss her, but she stopped him with a finger to his lips. “What?”

“We can’t indulge your addiction every single time.”

“I was just going to give you a kiss,” Hiccup argued.

Astrid pecked him on the lips. “There.” She smiled a little, but then her face grew serious. “But I’m serious, Hiccup. Giving into it every single time is going to make it worse. There has to be some sort of balance.”

Frustration bubbled in Hiccup’s stomach. He didn’t want that, not at all. He knew that logically she was making sense, but now that he’d had his needs fulfilled this one time, he’d been hoping it would happen with all the other times too. He could bury his shame deep inside and go back to fucking three to four times a day like the whore he was. It was strange though, because he was Dagur’s whore and he wouldn’t be fucking Dagur.

“What are you suggesting?” he asked anyway. Best to go along with it.

“Once a week. Today’s Odin’s Day, so, every Odin’s Day.”

Hiccup clenched his jaw. That was going to be difficult. It sounded impossible.

_ But I got this far without it. _

_ Yeah, and almost went fucking crazy. _

“Okay.” He didn’t like agreeing to it, but he knew he had to, for his own sake. 

“Thank you.” Astrid kissed him again. “We should clean up. Wish I had a tub in here, but I always go to the bathhouse.”

Hiccup shuddered at the thought of doing that. The idea of simply bathing had never been sexual to him until his captivity, and going to the bathhouse was something he knew he was never going to do again. He’d be naked around other people, vulnerable. They could easily take him, and they’d see the ruin that was his body.

“Wasn’t going to make you do that.”

Astrid sat up, pulled the rest of her hair out of her braid. “Just get dressed and I’ll walk you back to your hut.”

Hiccup felt utterly relieved by that. He didn’t like walking anywhere alone, and the only places he’d been going to were his friend’s huts, his own, and the clubhouse. People always tried to stop and talk to him when he was alone, and he would just duck his head and push on past them without responding. They wanted to know things, things he couldn’t talk to any of them about. If he had someone with him, he was less likely to be stopped. It wasn’t like Astrid’s hut was that far, but he’d still feel better with her by his side. He figured that he always would.

  
  


“Lower your weapons,” Stoick ordered. “He’s just a messenger.”

The tall Berserker that stood in the clubhouse looked relieved when Gobber lowered his hook and Spitelout his axe. The man had been allowed to dock at the Edge despite the crest on the sail. He’d been waving a white flag, and he was alone, delivering a message from Dagur. Stoick was anxious to read it. He wanted to turn his back to do so, but he didn’t, not trusting that Gobber and Spitelout wouldn’t injure the man the instant he had his back turned. He understood how they felt.

 

_ Stoick, _

_ I know these aren’t the best of times between us, but fighting can be avoided if my demands are met. Firstly, I want my property back, property that was wrongfully taken by the Dragon Riders. You know who I’m talking about. Related to you, has my crest burned into his chest. If you need convincing, I can give him a life of luxury on Berzerk, one he can’t even dream of having on Berk. You don’t want him. He’s useless to you. He’s no longer your heir. Return him to me and I can give him riches and make him happy. _

_ And regarding the Berserkers, turn over Heather. I don’t want a fight with her and she’s silly to think she can best me. Besides, I don’t want to put the future heir to the Berserker throne in danger. You can help end this civil war between us. _

_ I’ll leave you alone if you deliver Hiccup and Heather to me. I’ll appeal to the side of you that cares about people. Two people to stop a war. If you follow through with this, I will never bother you again. However, if you refuse, the waters around Berk will drink of your tribe’s blood. _

__ \- Dagur the Deranged _ _

 

Stoick crumpled the letter in one hand, anger searing through his blood. The gall of Dagur to demand Hiccup from him, to say that he was useless to him!

Stoick looked to the messenger. “Your chief really is crazy if he thinks he can demand my son from me.” He tossed the letter into the fire burning in the stove, strode over to him. “I want you to tell him this: He better be ready to fight me, because I’m coming for him.”


	101. Chapter 100

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a shorter chapter, but a huge event happens in this one, and ending where I did has more dramatic effect. You'll see.
> 
> Also, wow! This is the 100th chapter!! It's taken me two and a half years with quite a few rough patches, but I've gotten here, and I thank all of you who have stayed through it or who have recently found the story and decided to read. Thank you!

Hiccup tried to scald his skin off in the bath. Sadly, Toothless refused to heat the water that hot though, and he was left with only a slight burning. He did that every time he bathed. It didn’t matter how many times he washed himself: it still felt like he was tainted with Dagur inside and out. It didn’t matter how Astrid touched him. It was still all of the same, Dagur in him and on him and choking out everything that he was.

The worst part was that it wasn’t even all bad to him. Not all the time, at least. There was still that part of him that only Astrid knew of that wanted Dagur, that longed to be with him, that cried at night because he wasn’t in his arms. He wondered if he’d sleep better with someone holding him, but he would feel guilty drawing Astrid away from her own bed, and he was nervous to ask any of his friends. Fishlegs had come to mind, but then he’d again grow confused about his sexuality and attraction, so he shut that thought down.

“I wonder what he’s up to, bud,” Hiccup said, leaning back in the tub. It didn’t matter if Toothless knew who he was talking about. He felt like he just had to think out loud for some reason. “If he’s still in Greenland or going to Berzerk or…” He couldn’t say the next part. Or coming here. For him. Hiccup looked down at his brand, touched it, then felt at the runes in his thigh. He was Dagur’s and there was no negating that no matter how much anyone tried. Though, he had to admit that he was getting used to having these scars, was forgetting what it was like to not have them, to not be claimed by someone over and over again. He didn’t think so much of cutting them off anymore. It didn’t seem necessary. Not too many people knew about them, and the ones that did would keep quiet. Hopefully. He was still worried about Spitelout, but there was nothing he could do about that.

“When do you think we can start flying again?” Hiccup asked Toothless. He reached out a hand, and though it was dripping, Toothless came over and nuzzled his nose into his palm. Hiccup was still gaining back his strength and knew he couldn’t fly Toothless no matter how much he wanted to. Gaining back all the muscles for flying would especially be a pain. He hadn’t lost all of that muscle while with Dagur due to the things he’d been made to do, but sitting in bed for three weeks with nothing to do had made him lose the rest of that strength. He wanted it back. He hoped for part of his old body back, if not the whole thing.

Toothless warbled at him in answer, and Hiccup sighed, let his hand drop back into the water. He wanted it to be hotter, wanted it to turn his skin blistering red and make it slide right off. He wanted to hurt, but instead he just sat there and didn’t move until the water had gone cold.

  
  


“Æsa, is it just me or is there something out there?” Bjorr asked.

Æsa had been leaning against the outer wall of the tower, dozing off. She and Bjorr were on the nightwatch on the docks. It was a boring, uneventful job, and the two usually ended up drinking a little and playing games together, though they’d stopped once Heather had taken over, even now with her absence. She was a good leader, and they didn’t want to possibly disappoint her.

She lifted her head, adjusting her helmet. She covered a yawn with her hand as she stepped away from the tower and peered out into the darkness.

“I don’t see anything.”

“No, wait. I swear something moved out in the water. Just keep watching.”

Æsa squinted, waited. Maybe Bjorr had been drinking a little. After a moment, she sighed.

“Bjorr, I don’t see anything.”

“Huh.” Bjorr scratched his head. “Must have imagined it then.”

Lights suddenly appeared fifty feet in front of them, and Æsa jumped back in surprise. She drew her sword on reflex, but then relaxed when she saw the familiar sail. The Skrill. Heather had returned home.

“Oh, it’s just Lady Heather,” Bjorr said, sounding relieved. He peered at the ships. “The fleet doesn’t look too worn-down. The battle must have gone well.”

“Hmm…” Æsa looked off towards the approaching ships. Bjorr was right that they all seemed to be intact. 

As the flagship approached, Bjorr and Æsa waved at the people on board. It was still too dark to see by, but she was sure it was her chief.

“Heather! Welcome home!” she called as the ship pulled level with the dock. For a moment nothing happened, and then someone jumped over the side.

“Oh, I’m home alright. But I’m not Heather.” They were met with green eyes and a sinister smile. Æsa and Bjorr took a step back, reaching for their weapons.

“Ah, ah, ah!” Dagur took a step forward, waved his finger at them. Another man stepped off behind him. He was larger than Dagur, and Æsa didn’t recognize him. Her heart was beginning to race. What was she to do? Dagur was a monster, and he certainly wasn’t chief anymore. She and Bjorr couldn’t just let him waltz in here and take over. “Don’t you know it’s illegal to draw weapons on your chief?”

That had anger mixing in with Æsa’s fear, but she didn’t draw her sword. Bjorr, however, did, getting into a fighting crouch.

“You’re not my chief,” he spat.

Dagur sighed in mock exasperation. “Oh, very well. Then I guess you’re not my subject either.” There was a flash of movement, and then the hilt of a knife was sticking from Bjorr’s throat, an awful gurgling sound leaving him.

“Bjorr!” Æsa rushed over to him to catch him as he fell, brought him down to the dock with her. He was dead the instant he had his head in her lap, and tears stung at Æsa’s eyes.

“You,” Dagur said, pointing at her. “Be a good girl and stay put unless you want to end up like your friend.”

“I was never a good girl.” Æsa knew she was going to die now, but she knew what she had to do before that. She reached for the horn on her belt, brought it to her lips, and blew into it desperately, making it the loudest she could. It was only ever used in case of an emergency, and this was one.

She saw Dagur draw his axe, and then there was a flash of agony in her chest like nothing she’d ever felt before. Then she was gone, the sound of her horn cutting off.

  
  


Dagur put his foot on the woman’s body to yank his axe out of her in a spray of blood. He giggled to himself, said something meant only for his own enjoyment.

“Daddy’s home.”

He waved with his axe, and then his Berserkers were hopping off the ship and crowding the dock. More ships were pulling up alongside. Viggo and Ryker hadn’t volunteered any troops, but Dagur didn’t care. This was for him to do, and he had plenty to take back Berzerk without their help. However, he felt like Viggo was judging him as he stood off to the side, watching him and scrutinizing. He’d wanted to come with him for his landing. Ryker was still on the Dragon Hunters’ flagship.

“I assume you have this planned out,” Viggo said calmly as if he hadn’t just witnessed the murder of two people, and Dagur knew it was just a taste of what was to come. He felt like his veins were singing with bloodlust. 

“Yeah.” Dagur bent over and drew his knife from the dead man’s throat, then sheathed it. “Kill anyone who gets in my way.”

  
  


The garrison had been deployed quickly upon Dagur’s arrival, but they proved to be no trouble really. Dagur’s force greatly outnumbered them, and he was having the best time he’d had in a while as he cut each warrior down with his axe, laughing and shouting with each kill. And then afterwards, he’d strip off his armor and fuck Hiccup while still covered in blood.

Sadness burst through the high of battle and punched him in the chest. The thought had come so naturally to him, but he didn’t have Hiccup. He nearly staggered, but then his blows grew even more ferocious. He’d have Hiccup again, but only after this. Then he’d spill Viggo’s blood over the both of them and fuck Hiccup while they were both drenched in it to consummate their new life together. He couldn’t trust Viggo. Not one bit. He’d use his alliance to take Hiccup and destroy Berk, and then he’d kill him. He’d wanted Hiccup before, and he said he was of no use to him now, but what if he wanted him again?

The taste of his enemies’ blood was in Dagur’s mouth as he kept fighting, and he reveled in it. He looked along the path up the hill, towards the castle. He wasn’t nervous now. Now, he couldn’t wait to get back to his castle and leave bloody footprints on the floor as he made his way over to his throne.

  
  


It was much calmer upon reaching the city. Dagur knew that the rest of the real fighting would happen up at the castle, with the last of the guards standing in his way. Soldiers that had looked to be opposing him joined him in the fight, either having been with him the whole time, or changing their mind and going with the smarter option in supporting their true chief.

Viggo had stayed close during the battle, but hadn’t even had to draw his sword. He looked as calm and collected as ever, though he was now streaked with blood that had spattered on him during Dagur’s frenzy. He walked a step to the right and behind him as Dagur led the march into the city, not saying a word, but he seemed approving.

Dagur was met with a crowd upon his return, but they didn’t try to fight him or his army, instead drew back to make a clear path in the road to let them pass. It was sometime in the middle of the night, but the common citizens had been roused by the fighting and had left their homes to see what was going on. Dagur lifted his head and looked down his nose at anyone that even dared to look him in the eye. He was above all of them, and he wasn’t afraid to coat his hands with their blood as well.

Though, Dagur admitted himself stunned when a ragtag group of people came out into the road about twenty feet from him and blocked his way. None of them wore armor, but they all had a different assortment of weapons. One tall man stood in front of the rest, clearly the leader of the quickly-put-together militia.

“We won’t let you pass!” His voice was surprisingly fierce for someone who stood against an entire army.

Dagur put one hand on his hip, deciding he would take the time to indulge this man. He needed to catch his breath anyway.

“And why’s that?”

“You’re a monster who’s committed genocide and war crimes!” the man shouted, leveling his spear and getting into a fighting stance. “You have no right to sit on that throne and no right to rule!”

Dagur stepped forward, swinging his axe, deciding to make a show of this. “It’s my birthright! What other right do I need?”

“The right of the council!”

Dagur spread his arms, dramatically looked around. “Well, they’re not here, are they?”

The others in the militia leveled their weapons as well.

“Then the right of the people.”

“No, no.” Dagur waved a bloodied hand. “Leave the people out of this. Just you and me.”

The man looked shocked that he’d said that.

“Come on, big guy!” Dagur made a ‘come here’ motion with his axe. “You stepped out in front of me! Now let’s  _ go! _ ”

Looking unsteady, the man stepped forward, and Dagur smiled. Then, he nodded his head, a signal to one of his archers. An arrow whistled past him and embedded itself in the man’s chest. He grunted, staggered, then fell to the ground twitching. Dagur strode over to him, and the militia shuffled backwards as he did so.

He put his boot to the man’s neck, ready to twist and snap it and end his pathetic life before the arrow could. 

“Take your other rights to Hel with you. All I  _ need  _ is birthright.” He twisted his foot and there was a sickeningly lovely snap that nearly made Dagur shiver. Still standing on his body, he looked to the militia, who now all looked properly frightened. “So, care to join him?” He gestured with his axe down at the man’s body. “Or me?”

In groups, the members of the militia all laid down their weapons, and then they parted to leave the path to the castle clear for Dagur.

“See? Wasn’t that easy?” Dagur twirled his blood-coated axe for show. “But know that I never really have my fill of blood.” Then, not expecting anymore of a fight, Dagur sheathed his axe and made his way onwards to the castle.

  
  


Only a few guards up at the castle fought, and Dagur and his warriors easily cut them from their path. A few members of the council were waiting for him in the throne room, minor ones. Hilda wasn’t here, and Thorn was probably dead. Dagur had to kill two that refused to bow to him, but allowed the other four to live. The throne was just as he’d left it. He’d expected for it to be different, for Heather to change it out of spite for either him or his father. Even standing in front of his warriors, Viggo, and the remaining members of the council, Dagur hesitated.

“Well, it’s all yours, Dagur,” Viggo said, gesturing towards it. “You fought here. You won. Take it.”

That urged him on. “It was mine to begin with,” he stated, striding over. He tossed his axe aside where it clanged loudly on the stone floor. Torches were the only light in the room, held by his warriors, leaving the throne in darkness. He made his way over to it anyway, being careful to make sure he wouldn’t trip on the dais and ruin his moment. His chest swelled. He ascended the dais, and took a seat on the throne in all its shadows.

Nothing grand happened at first. He hadn’t been expecting it to, but then, all in a group, the Berserkers with him got down on one knee, bowed their heads, and put their right fist to their heart. Viggo merely watched from the side. It would be nice to get him to bow, but he was a chief as well, and it wasn’t within Dagur’s right to make him do that.

Then, together, the Berserkers all let out a mighty war cry that seemed to shake the very stone of the room, and Dagur raised his fist and joined them. Berzerk was his, and next he was coming for Berk.


	102. Chapter 101

After bathing, Dagur threw himself into his bed naked, pressed the side of his face against the soft pillows, breathing a happy sigh. The servants had been keeping his chambers clean even while in his absence, and his bed was softer than he remembered it being. He was happy with that.

What he wasn’t happy with though, was the fact that Hiccup wasn’t here to enjoy it with him. They would have fucked in the throne room, bathed, and then made love before falling asleep in each other’s arms in the comfort of his massive bed. It would have been so lovely, but Hiccup wasn’t here.

_ Soon,  _ he told himself.  _ Gonna be soon. _

The middle of the night was turning to morning, the sky outside his huge window a blue rather than a black. The view was one of the castle gardens and the city beyond. Some of the trees had grown taller in the three years since he’d been there, making some of the view unfamiliar, but what he was familiar with made him comfortable. He didn’t feel so nervous about being back here now. He was home, and it felt good.

Despite the hour, Dagur wanted one thing before he went to sleep. The blonde slave was in the next room over, probably asleep on the sofa. He thought it best to keep him nearby, but not nearly as close as he’d had Hiccup. He didn’t deserve that kind of closeness from him. He was just a proxy and nothing else. He wasn’t even as close to as good as Hiccup, but it was better than nothing at all. 

He got off the bed, glad that he hadn’t bothered putting clothes on. He went into the next room. The thrall wasn’t sleeping, as he turned on the sofa when he entered. he hurriedly stood, bowed to him.

“My lord.”

Dagur said nothing. He went over to him, took him by the waist, and pressed his lips to his neck. 

“Hiccup,” he breathed. He of course knew this wasn’t really Hiccup, but he wanted to pretend. Maybe pretending would fill the ache in his chest.

“That’s not my na-”

“Shut up.” Dagur kissed him on the mouth to quiet him. They weren’t Hiccup’s lips, and that frustrated him, so he bit hard at his lower lip and the thrall gasped.

Dagur undressed him, kissed and nipped all over his body, said Hiccup’s name. Then he took him back to his bed, laid him down on his side, and wrapped his arms around him. He fucked him slowly, came with Hiccup’s name on his lips. He stayed inside him after, cuddled into him, trying to pretend that the smell in his nostrils belonged to Hiccup. The warmth of that body belonged to Hiccup. He’d used to do this with Hiccup: remain in him after as the both of them went to sleep, and he longed to have that again. 

Dagur began to dream of him as the sky started to turn gray.

  
  


“I’m going.” Heather was in the clubhouse, called there by Stoick. The A Team and the Dragon Riders were gathered as well. Hiccup had yet to be told about the note, and Heather wondered when that would happen. If they were leaving he would have to be told.

From across the table, Gothi shook her head, and Heather rolled her eyes in exasperation. 

“I’m not going on Windshear. Somebody has to lead the fleet back, don’t they? I can do that.”

Gothi frowned, leaned back in her chair, but didn’t make any sort of gesture. She seemed tacitly approving.

“We’ll be happy to have you there, Heather,” Stoick said. “It makes sense too. We’ll need someone for the throne once we take out Dagur, and that’s you.”

“So are we all going?” Astrid asked. “What about Hiccup?”

“Most of us are going,” Stoick said. “Someone will have to stay and look after him. He can’t fly yet, and there’s no way I’m letting him near that maniac. We should send a scout to see where Viggo is. If he’s with Dagur, we can send the entire fleet. If not, we’re going to have to leave people to protect the Edge.”

“I’ll go,” Snotlout volunteered.

“Us too,” Ruffnut said, gesturing to her and Tuffnut. She nodded to Snotlout. “You might need backup.”

Stoick nodded. “You three go get ready to leave right away.”

“Stoick, are we ready for this kind of frontal assault?” Gobber asked. “His force is bigger than ours and Heather’s combined, and if Viggo really is with him-”

“We have dragons,” Stoick said fiercely, cutting off the argument. “That’s something neither he or Viggo has.”

The room was silent. Clearly no one was going to bring up the fact that they had almost lost to Viggo before Heather and her Berserkers had shown up.

“Is everyone in agreement?”

There were murmurs and nods. 

“Alright, now: who’s going to be staying with Hiccup?”

  
  


Hiccup was happy to be alone in the forest with Fishlegs, Toothless, and Meatlug. The Edge felt so crowded to him now, but the forest was the same. It was peaceful with just them.

Hiccup was riding on Toothless’ back, trying to work up his muscles again and get used to the feeling. He was no longer acquainted with the feeling of movement underneath him, the hardness of the saddle. He knew he would be sore later that night, but he wanted to do this. Nothing could keep him on the ground.

“So, how are you feeling, Hiccup?”

Hiccup didn’t quite know how to answer that. He was feeling better in some ways, but worse in others. Though, he did have to say having sex with Astrid the day before had greatly relieved him - he hadn’t had to be tied up again yet - but he was upset that he wouldn’t be having it again till the week after.

“Better, I guess,” he answered. He put a hand on Toothless’ head. “It’s good to be riding him again.”

“I’m sure it is.” Fishlegs smiled at him, but then looked straight ahead, expression growing serious. “So, uh, the fleet is going to be leaving in the next couple of days.”

“Leaving?” Hiccup asked. “To go where? Why didn’t my dad tell me?”

Fishlegs inhaled deeply. “Well, Stoick got a note from… him.”

Hiccup grated his teeth, and anxiety jumped to life in his stomach. “Oh?”

“Stoick didn’t like it, so now we’re going to Berzerk,” Fishlegs said. “Well, not me.” He looked to him again, his gaze endearing. “I volunteered to stay with you.”

“I don’t-” Hiccup cut himself off. He’d been about to say that he didn’t need a babysitter, but that would make him sound ungrateful, and that’s the last thing he was. He knew he couldn’t go out and fight, knew that he had to be kept away from Dagur. Having Fishlegs to stay with him would be nice. “Thank you, Fishlegs. I really appreciate that.”

“No problem. You know me. Not one for battles anyway. Besides, I’ll get to spend some time with you. It’ll be good.”

“Yeah, it will.” Hiccup looked away, mind now on Dagur, as it often was. “Is he there?”

“Hm?”

“Is Dagur-” the name felt like a hammer to his chest. “Is he at Berzerk?”

“We don’t know,” Fishlegs answered. “We’re hoping we get there before him so that we can defend it rather than try to take it. Snotlout and the twins left on a scouting mission an hour ago. They should be back by tomorrow. We’re also checking to see if Viggo’s there. That’ll determine how much of the fleet we bring.”

“The whole thing if he is there, I’m guessing?” Hiccup asked.

“Yeah. You know your dad’s strategies.”

Hiccup simply nodded. Viggo’s name didn’t sit well with him either, but Fishlegs didn’t know what he’d truly done to him.

“Was my dad planning on talking to me about this at all?” He felt a little hurt that this wasn’t coming directly from him. He was also curious to see the note that Dagur had sent. He was sure that it had been asking for him back.

“He wanted me to tell you. Thought it would be easier coming from a friend.”

Hiccup nodded in understanding. He still planned on talking to his father about all this though. Something didn’t feel right to him about someone else killing Dagur. He wanted to be the one to do it, wanted to see his blood gush, see the light leave his eyes. It would only be fair. He’d done the worst to him, and he wanted to deal the killing blow. The walk continued in silence for a little bit, and Hiccup fantasized about how he would do it. There were a lot of ways to kill someone. He wanted to hurt him first though. He didn’t care that that was nothing like the old Hiccup. He was coming to terms with this new Hiccup, this new person he was, and this new person wanted Dagur to suffer. Ooh, it would feel good to shove the sharp end of a spear up his ass and yell to him that that was what it felt like. Maybe he could just kill him that way, keep going and just tear the spear right through his insides and up through his mouth. That way he would get to choke on it too. Yes, that seemed fitting for what he’d done to him.

“So what was up with Heather bringing me Toothless yesterday?” Fishlegs asked, breaking Hiccup from his dark, but satisfied reverie.

“Huh? Oh, that.” Hiccup had to shake his head a little to drag himself back. “I, uh, just wasn't, um… doing so well.” That wasn’t exactly a lie. Fighting not-Hiccup definitely didn’t count as “doing well.”

“What was going on?”

“I was having an attack,” Hiccup lied. That’s what they’d taken to calling his moments of feeling like he was panicking and breathing so fast he felt like he wasn’t breathing at all. “Couldn’t feed Toothless because of it.”

Fishlegs just nodded in understanding. “Have those lessened at all?”

“Not really,” Hiccup said dejectedly. He wished that they would just go away, but he was thinking that maybe they never would. Maybe none of this would ever go away. 

“Well, it’s only been a month,” Fishlegs told him. “You have to give it time.”

“Yeah. Time.” Hiccup didn’t feel that to be the truth. 

They continued on in silence, and Hiccup realized something. If Fishlegs was going to be staying with him, he’d have to know about not-Hiccup and what to do when he showed up. He’d have to know about his sex addiction. His cheeks flushed red, but hopefully it would look like it was just from the cold.

“So, uh, Fishlegs.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “There’s actually something Astrid and I have to talk to you about.”

“Oh? What is it?”

“Just, uh… something.”

“You can’t tell me now?” Fishlegs asked, leaned towards him curiously.

Hiccup shook his head, just looking straight ahead, unable to meet his gaze. He still had problems meeting anyone in the eye. “No. It’s… It’s complicated. It’s really complicated, but it’s something you’ll have to know if you’ll be staying with me.”

“Got it. Whatever it is, I hope you know that I won’t judge you.”

Hiccup laughed in a cynical manner. “Oh, you might be taking that back.”

  
  


Hiccup was in the lower floor of his hut with Fishlegs and Astrid, pacing. He did that a lot now, both because of nerves and because he was trying to work up as much of his strength as he could. His legs ached, but he did it anyway. Now, it was because of nerves, and maybe because he was too stubborn to stop.

Hiccup didn’t know how to start, didn’t know how to explain anything. Fishlegs had said that he wouldn’t judge him, but he was afraid that he would. Hiccup felt like he had a lot to be judged badly for now.

Finally, after long moments of silence where they were waiting for Hiccup to speak, he sighed, stopped pacing. “I don’t know where to start. Astrid, could you…?”

Astrid walked over to him, got a questioning look in her eyes. Knowing what she planned on doing, Hiccup nodded, and she placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“Hiccup, this is yours to explain. I’ll help where I can, but I think you should really be the one to do it. You understand it better than anybody.”

_ Yeah, I really don’t.  _ Hiccup decided to keep that to himself. It was negative, and he was sure people were tired of hearing the negative things he had to say. It seemed like there was always something. He knew he was exhausting to be around, but he didn’t know how to fix that. He exhausted  _ himself _ with all of his problems.

“Well, uh…” He looked at the floor, scratched at the back of his head. Fishlegs just waited patiently. “I have this problem.”

"Problem?" Fishlegs obviously wanted him to specify, given all that had been going on.

"Yeah. It's, um, not my fault either." He felt like it partially was, but he wasn't going to say that. "It's something he did to me."

"Okay..." Fishlegs was clearly just waiting for him to continue, to explain in depth.

"I'm addicted to, uh... well, um..." Hiccup cleared his throat. Now he couldn't say it. He leaned back against the table in the room, tapped his hands against his thighs. "I... I have a sex addiction." There. He'd said it. He didn't look up, didn't look at Fishlegs, but he could feel his eyes still on him. He couldn't determine how he felt just on that. Was he judging him badly? Hiccup's heart started racing with anxiety. "B-but it's not my fault. H-he would... do it to me so many times a day and I just got used to it and now it's like I need it all the time or I feel like I'm dying, and it created this other version of me that can't think about anything save for that and he'll do anything to get it and-"

He was cut off as Astrid squeezed his shoulder, and he glanced at her.

"Hiccup, take a deep breath. You're rambling."

"Okay, okay." Hiccup shook his head, drew a few deep breaths, then made himself look at Fishlegs. "Sorry. That probably made no sense."

Fishlegs tapped his chin in thought. "I think I understand. So you're... addicted to sex because you got used to the way he was treating you. That makes sense." He pointed at him. "And like you said, it's not your fault. And then that other thing. So there's this unthinking version of you? This sort of second Hiccup that will do anything to get sex?"

Hiccup was surprised. Usually Fishlegs was awkward talking about things like this, but he was handling it very well. He was surprised he had understood his rambling as well, especially when he himself didn't fully understand it and all his feelings.

"Yeah," Hiccup answered, letting his shock into his voice.

"And what do you do about that?" Fishlegs asked. "I'm assuming you can't just let yourself give in to your addiction and that other part of you like that."

Very suddenly, Hiccup wanted to cry. It felt like he was being punched in the chest by frustration and upset. He  _ wanted _ to let himself give into his addiction. He  _ wanted _ to give into not-Hiccup. It was all so difficult, and it only added onto the stress of his everyday life. If he could just have sex whenever he wanted...

Astrid spoke, pulling him from that place, leaving him blinking away tears, unnoticed.

"We don't. We have a plan put in place for it. This... not-Hiccup-"  _ So she calls him that too _ \- "he has to be tied up when he gets like that, to keep him from, well, doing anything."

Fishlegs just nodded, probably understanding what "doing anything" meant. Hiccup pursed his lips, trying not to let his head go there. If it did, he was sure that Fishlegs would be meeting not-Hiccup a lot sooner than expected. He took another deep breath, and Astrid rubbed at his back. He was okay with that for now. It reminded him of when Bryn would do it, and Bryn had never hurt him.

"Okay. How will I know when it's him?"

"Oh, it's pretty obvious," Hiccup told him. "And I'll let you know as well."

Astrid nodded. "Yeah. He comes to me when he feels that way."

Fishlegs poked his forefingers together. "So, what do I do after he's tied up?"

"Nothing," Astrid answered, and Hiccup's frustration began coming back. "Absolutely nothing. You can't untie him no matter what he does or says, and trust me, he tries to get you to do it."

"Yeah, he does." Hiccup could remember all that, could remember that suffering, how not-Hiccup was so desperate to end it. "I'll let you know when it's me again. The difference is usually obvious."

"But what if it's not? What if he pretends to be you and I untie you anyway?"

"Then tie him right back up," Astrid answered. "You're bigger than him, so-"

Hiccup cleared his throat, cutting her off. He pulled away from her, those words making him feel unsafe. "Astrid, could we not?"

"Sorry, sorry." She gave him an apologetic look, then directed her gaze back at Fishlegs. "But you know what I mean. Fight him if you have to."

"Okay." Fishlegs paced a few steps. "Okay." He turned back the other way, paced a few more steps, wringing his hands. "This is... this is a lot."

_ Gods, he's judging me. I knew he would. _

"For me, I mean," Fishlegs clarified as if he could read Hiccup's thoughts. "It's just making me nervous is all. I don't want to mess up and end up hurting you either physically or emotionally."

"Everything already hurts emotionally, so you've got no problem there." Hiccup realized too late that he'd spoken his negative thought, but he decided not to apologize for it. Fishlegs just gave him a look.

"I mean I don't want to cause anymore damage, Hiccup. I care a lot about you and don't want to mess this up."

"How about this?" Astrid started. "It hasn’t happened in a little bit, but I'm sure it will again." Hiccup didn't stop her. He agreed with her on that. Not-Hiccup would probably be showing his terrible self in a few hours. "When it happens and after I have him secured, I'll go get you to show you what it's like."

Hiccup swallowed hard. He didn't feel comfortable with that. The thought of another person seeing him like that created a pit in his stomach, but he saw Astrid's point. Fishlegs had to know what he was dealing with, especially since he was going to be alone with him.

"Alright," Fishlegs agreed. "Hiccup, are you okay with that?"

"Does it matter if I am?" Hiccup asked. Then he went on, hoping that Astrid wouldn't realize that it was his problem with understanding his own boundaries coming up again. "You have to know how to handle it, especially since we don’t know how long everyone else will be gone. It’ll be days for sure.” Now Hiccup was upset that his dad hadn’t talked to him about that. After this, he planned on riding Toothless over to his hut and getting an explanation.

“But you guys will be fine,” Astrid said. “And so will we.”

  
  


Hiccup hesitated before knocking on his dad’s door. Talking to him was always difficult now, and just being in his presence made him feel more shame than usual. It was the fact that he knew what he’d gone through, that he’d seen him in his weakest moments, that he was supposed to stand in front of the chief knowing that he could no longer be his heir and that he’d been made into much less than that.

It wasn’t long before Stoick answered the door. He probably recognized his knock.

“Oh, Hiccup. Come on in.” There was no hello, but Hiccup just nodded his head to him in thanks, and entered, Toothless following behind him.

Stoick closed the door. “So, son, how are you doing? You don’t usually come up here.”

“No, but I have to talk to you about something.” Stoick sat by the fire, so Hiccup did the same after taking off his cloak and putting it over the back of the chair. He folded his hands in his lap, his posture all tight and nervous. He decided to get straight to the point though. “Why didn’t you tell me about the note?”

Stoick sighed. “Knew you were going to ask that. I thought it would be better coming from a friend rather than me.” 

“Why?”

“Well, our relationship is a little… strained now, don’t you think?”

Hiccup felt bad about that, but it was. He tightened his lips, looking at the floor, nodded in agreement. “I’m… sorry about that, dad. I wish there was something I could change. I wish I didn’t feel this way.”

“It’s alright Hiccup. It’s going to take you time. It’s only been a month.”

Hiccup snorted. Those had almost been Fishlegs’ exact words. He wasn’t done with the previous topic though.

“Can I see the note?”

“No,” Stoick answered firmly.

“Why not?”

“Burned it,” Stoick told him. “Couldn’t help it. Besides, it would have only upset you.”

“What did it say?”

“I’d rather not repeat it.”

“Please, dad.” Hiccup looked at him now. “I have a right to know, don’t I? It’s about me.”

Stoick turned his head to look at the fire, thinking. Then he shook his head a little.

“Alright. It’s about you, so yes, you do have the right to know.” He looked at him now, and Hiccup decided his eyebrows were better to look at than his eyes. “He wants you back. He asked me for you, tried telling me you’d be living in luxury.” Stoick huffed. “Like living with that lunatic and being tortured would be luxurious in anyway.”

Hiccup didn’t know what to say to that. Dagur had promised him luxury as well, and if just the mattress he had was any sign of how the Berserkers lived, it didn’t seem so bad. Besides, he wouldn’t cry himself to sleep anymore longing for Dagur’s arms around him, wouldn’t be internally begging for a cock inside him. Dagur would fuck him as much as he needed to be fucked, as hard as he needed to be. He’d make him feel good again, would take away this suffering. Besides, why did Stoick have the right to deny him? He was Dagur’s property. Berk had no claim on him anymore. He wasn’t their heir.

Hiccup made sure not to say any of this. He didn’t want his dad to know that he wanted Dagur sometimes, that he found himself longing for him when he was all alone. It was too complicated to explain to Stoick, who saw everything as straight forward. He wouldn’t understand, and then Hiccup wouldn’t be allowed to fly Toothless. They’d take the saddle and tail fin away from him, and he couldn’t let that happen.

“Yeah, he’s crazy,” was the only thing Hiccup said to that. Now for his next question. “But why are you going after him just for a note?”

“Because he hurt you Hiccup, and with that he declared war on us.”

“But why are  _ you  _ doing it? I know you’re upset that he hurt me, but… I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel like something else is driving you on too.” Hiccup met his gaze for real now. “What happened while I was gone?” He knew Dagur had never engaged with Stoick during his captivity, but still: “What did he do to you?”

“Nothing.”

Hiccup wasn’t going to take that for an answer. “No, no, no. Something happened. What was it?”

“Ah, too smart to accept a lie,” Stoick said, sounding defeated. “Good trait for a chief.” He looked into the fire again. Hiccup decided not to argue with him about the chief comment. That would change the fact that he was about to get an answer for what was going on with his dad, for why he seemed so upset all the time, so broken down, so tired. He just waited.

“It was bad,” Stoick started. “Dagur set up fake leads for us and a fake camp.”

“The Iron Isle,” Hiccup recalled. Stoick gave him a questioning look and he explained: “He told me.”

Stoick sighed. “That was a bad day.” Now it was his turn to be incapable of making eye contact. “We fought hard. We fought so hard and for no reason. And what was worse…” He had to pause now, blinking, and Hiccup couldn’t ignore the tears in his eyes. “He gave me hope. He gave me so much hope and then crushed it under his foot and twisted.” He cleared his throat, looking the most emotional and upset Hiccup had ever seen him, and it made his chest ache. Another unpleasant thing was that Hiccup could remember the time Dagur had done that same thing, but to his ribs.

“Skullcrusher found your scent. It led us away from the beach and into the woods, to a large tent. I killed getting there. I killed so many men in my hope and my rage. I thought I was about to find you.”

“And then nothing.” It wasn’t that hard to guess the end of the story.

“No.” His dad’s voice was quiet for once. “Not nothing.”

Hiccup was stunned by this. What had Stoick found instead? What had Dagur left for him?

Then it hit him. He knew why Skullcrusher had picked up a scent.

_ Oh gods.  _

“Dad-”

“Your clothes,” Stoick said. “He left me your clothes.”

Hiccup didn’t know what to do, to say. He swallowed hard, sickened by this fact. Tears stung at his own eyes now. He couldn’t imagine the pain his father must have felt at that, the sheer agony. He’d had hope that he was going to find him, and he hadn’t found him, but had been taunted instead. It was Dagur yelling at him: “Hey, Stoick! Guess what? I still have your son and he’s  _ naked!  _ Bet you know what I’m doing to him!” And at that point Stoick had known. His friends had told him. Dagur had been  _ bragging  _ about it to his own  _ father. _

“Dad, I’m so sorry,” Hiccup breathed, voice choked. He felt like he wasn’t allowed to cry. This was his dad’s pain, not his, but seeing him like this, knowing what had happened, hurt beyond belief. He knew he would feel rage at Dagur for doing that to him, but later. That would come after the grief.

Stoick lowered his head into his hands, and a sound came out of him that Hiccup had never heard before: a sob. Stoick the Vast was crying.

For a moment or two Hiccup just sat there, completely unsure of what to do. Then he got up, placed a hand on his dad’s shoulder.

“Dad.”

He didn’t look at him, didn’t move his hands from his face.

“Dad, it’s okay. I’m here.”

Then Stoick did look at him, and his face was so stricken, streaked with tears. Hiccup rushed him in a tight hug, and he was actually comforted when he hugged him back. It felt good to be comforting someone other than himself. It felt good that his presence was helping his father.

“I’m right here, dad. I’m right here.”

Words.  _ A  _ word. A word Hiccup related to pain and suffering and lies, but he had to say it, because he felt it and it was good and pure and true.

“I… I lo… I love you, dad.”

Stoick squeezed him tight. “I love you too, Hiccup. I love you too.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

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